


A Simple Bounty

by capdjarin



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Banter, Blindfolds, Bounty Hunters, Bounty to Lovers, Cis Han Solo, Complicated Relationships, Dramatic Irony, Enthusiastic Consent, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Good Parent Han Solo, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Threesome - M/M/M, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Trans Din Djarin, Trans Luke Skywalker, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, t4t
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capdjarin/pseuds/capdjarin
Summary: After spending some time with Grogu and his new Jedi teacher, Din takes a bounty to bring in an infamous smuggler named Han Solo.This should be simple, at least. He'll bring in Solo within a few weeks, finally buy his own ship, and then he can go back to his son and the Jedi he's unfortunately grown attached to. No problem.Or: Din Djarin severely underestimates Han Solo's ability to wriggle his way into people's soft spots.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Han Solo, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 80
Kudos: 343





	1. The Smuggler

Greef is at his usual table when Din walks into the cantina, the Darksaber a heavy weight on his hip. The guild agent looks surprised and happy to see him, which Din supposes made sense. He can't help but wonder how much Cara told him about what happened after they captured Moff Gideon, and his face burns red with the memory of removing his helmet in front of so many people. _It was worth it_ , he reminds himself, like a mantra. Shameful, maybe, but not something he could ever regret, not when he got to meet his child face to face, feel his small, perfect, hand on his jaw. Thankfully it wasn’t the last time he got to see the kid again, but it easily could have been.

“Mando! It’s been a while. I didn’t expect your shiny ass to darken my doorway again.” Karga smiles at him warmly, arms crossed, Din returning the smile from behind his helmet. 

“I had to take a break, after...” He can't continue the thought, can't yet vocalize everything that happened over the past few months, so he just shakes his head and looks at the table where Karga is idly fiddling with credits. “I’m ready to take more jobs though. I need to raise money for a ship.” He's currently borrowing a ship that Skywalker had in his magic hideaway, but it isn't his, isn't _home_. To be honest, Din isn't sure any ship could be home, not like the Razor Crest. 

“Well, the Guild will certainly be glad to have you back. I have just the job for you,” Greef tells him and places a puck down on the table, Din more than happy to get down to business. The holo image glows blue, showing a light-skinned human man with shaggy brown hair. 

“Doesn’t look like much,” Din says. “What’s the pay?”

“Twenty thousand.”

“Credits?” Din looks again at the glowing man. “For _him_?”

“That’s right! Enough for a down payment on any ship you want. His name is Han Solo, ex-smuggler and a big player in the resistance. He apparently owes someone, somewhere, a lot of credits, and he’s got friends in high places,” Greef tells him.

“Well, I’ll take it,” Din says, slipping the puck in his utility belt. “Should be simple enough.” He stands to leave and Karga stands to face him as well. When Din reaches out to shake his hand, Greef pulls him into a hug, slapping him on the back.

“You take care of yourself, Mando, okay?” his friend tells him with a smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“You too, Greef,” Din says and nods, turning to make his way back to Skywalker's ship. 

He's looking forward to taking another job after living on Yavin IV with Skywalker and Grogu for a few weeks. He feels so incredibly lucky to be able to be with his kid and watch him learn, but he can only take so much damn meditation before wanting to scream or do something stupid, so it feels good to get off-planet and stretch his legs for a bit. This Solo character shouldn't be too much trouble, he thinks, reflecting on the grainy image from the bounty puck. 

He's thankful that such a simple job would pay so much, though the skeptic in him can't help but wonder what the catch is. Nothing he can't handle, at least. 

Once he straps himself into the cockpit, he punches in the last known coordinates and takes off. Reflexively, he looks behind him at the empty co-pilot chair only to remember that the kid wasn't there. Safe with Skywalker, but not there. His hand moves to the silver ball in his pocket and feels the hard Beskar underneath. It can't replace the feeling of having his son with him, but it at least calms him down.

Din sighs and turns back to face the open sky. Bringing in Solo should take a few weeks at most, he reminds himself, and then he'll be able to find a ship to call his own and return to his son and the Jedi he’d unfortunately grown rather fond of. Just a few weeks and they’ll be together again. 

* * *

Solo’s last known coordinates are out in the ass crack middle of nowhere, so it takes the Mandalorian a couple of days to reach his destination. Without Grogu by his side, he feels empty, even though he's thankful that his son is in Skywalker’s competent hands. (Well, _hand_ , Din jokes to himself. Skywalker would have laughed, at least.) Din and Grogu could be anywhere together and it would feel like home, but now, alone and cold in an unfamiliar ship, he has never felt more lonely. He can't help but let his mind drift to his time on Yavin IV, the warmth of the room Din and Grogu share; the communal meals with children happy and laughing; the bright blue of Skywalker’s eyes and the way his blonde hair moved when he had to shake his laughter away.

Without much to keep him occupied, Din splits his time between flying, sleeping, and maintaining his armor and weapons. This kriffing ship doesn't have nearly enough space for weapons, but he was at least able to bring a few of the pieces he’d collected over the past couple of months along with him. He shouldn’t need them, but it at least gives him something to do so isn't so alone with his thoughts.

Thankfully, it just takes one more sleep before finally reaching the small planet with tall trees and deep oceans. There are a few different settlements, but only one seems to be a trading hub, which Din figures a smuggler would likely be drawn to. There is a cantina, too, which was a plus. Smugglers love to drink.

He descends the ship slowly into the atmosphere and onto the landing pad, trees towering over the surrounding city and making everything feel green and vibrant. He wishes deeply that Grogu were here to see this; the kid always marveled at the vast diversity of the planets they got to visit together. Din got the impression that the child didn’t see a lot of the galaxy before they rescued each other. 

“Time to get out there,” Din says to the empty cockpit. 

* * *

Solo is almost embarrassingly easy to track down; he's in the cantina just like Din expected, nursing a drink alone at a corner table. The smuggler is wearing a loose-fitting white top with a black vest, and is almost shockingly handsome, more so than the bounty puck led him to believe. Not like it mattered. He, at least, is no more intimidating than Din had originally thought. He just looks _lonely_ , Din uncomfortably familiar with the expression on his face, the longing pouring out of his body. Din wonders idly what the man had lost to bring him to this point. 

He approaches the table where Solo is moping, getting within a few feet before he's noticed. Solo looks up and Din sees fear and confusion flash on his face, quickly replaced with a smug smirk.

“You know,” Solo drawls, “I thought you were this other guy at first.”

The Mandalorian just places the puck on the table in response, the glow tinting the smuggler’s face blue. “I can bring you in warm,” he says, well-practiced and in his element after so long, “or I can bring you in cold.”

Solo leans back, hand not so subtly resting near the blaster on his hip. He _grins_ at Din, infuriatingly, and replies, “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Din steps forward and Solo quickly raises his blaster to take a shot before he can even reach for his own. Thankfully, Din’s reflexes are quick enough that he's able to deflect the blast back at him, grazing Solo’s right shoulder. The man drops his blaster and says, “Ow! You _shot_ me!”

Din is already moving forward to place the quarry in cuffs, not being particularly careful of the shoulder. He’ll be in carbonite soon enough anyway. “I think you technically shot yourself,” he retorts back, hauling him up. “Let’s go.”

* * *

* * *

Halfway between the cantina and the landing pad, the quarry starts to struggle. Din handles his tantrum easily enough until Solo goes _limp_ and Din can't move forward with him.

“You don’t have to make this so difficult,” Din growls and grabs the bounty to carry him over his shoulder. 

“Did you just _lift me_?” Solo squawks, still struggling fruitlessly on his shoulder. People are staring but the Mandalorian truly does not give a shit. The job is the only thing that matters. Din doesn't bother replying to his stupid question, just keeps walking. Din reaches the ship before remembering to tip the person watching over the ship and turns around to throw a few credits their way. 

The man still slung over his shoulder finally stops struggling and starts sputtering instead. “Hey,” he says to Din, hitting him on the back. “Hey, Mando, that’s my ship!”

Din rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says. This smuggler has a mouth on him, certainly, and Din isn't exactly inclined to believe anything that comes out of it.

Din puts the smuggler back down. “Will you please behave now,” he nearly begs.

The man is still gawking at the ship. “I haven’t seen her in… years. Not since Luke,” he mutters almost to himself. 

“Whatever you say. Let’s go.” Din grabs his bad arm and drags him to the ship, Solo suspiciously quiet. 

Once inside, the Mandalorian walks Solo to the carbonite processor, and the bounty finally catches up to current events. Then he starts _panicking_ , eyes wide and breathing fast. Din can almost hear his heart beating to get out of his chest. “No, man, no. I can’t do the carbonite thing.”

Like Din is going to give him an option. He just needs to bring Solo in so he can go back to his son and the blue eyes he can’t seem to get out of his head. 

“You don’t have a choice.” 

“I’m serious, Mando, I— I can’t do it.” He seems so… _small_ all of a sudden, and Din is hit with a very annoying wave of sympathy. “I’ll behave, I promise. I’ll be so quiet and turn myself in, wherever you end up taking me. No carbonite. Please.” Solo looks at him, brown eyes big and pleading. Din feels like it was genuine, but it can easily be an act; he knows the type.

However. Din thinks back to the trip here. The too-quiet ship, cold and lonely. The trip to the drop point will be even longer; a week, maybe, and Din isn't entirely sure he can face it again. “Fine,” he says. “But one wrong move and you’re getting frozen.” 

“Yep, heard loud and clear. I will not be fucking around with the scary Mandalorian again. Pinky swear,” Solo says quickly. “Thank you. I guess.”

Solo breathes deeply, clearly relieved, and starts to look around the ship’s bay. “I never thought I’d see her again,” he says, revering, religious. He looks at Din suspiciously. “How did you find her?”

Din rolls his eyes again. “I found _it_ abandoned on a planet. This piece of junk was barely holding together when I got my hands on it but thankfully I was able to get it flying.” The second part is certainly true, but he isn't about to tell this smuggler the truth, that he borrowed it from a wizard who is hiding out in a secret Jedi hideout with a bunch of Force-sensitive kids. 

Solo scoffs, clearly offended on behalf of this garbage scow. “Excuse you, this piece of junk is the _Millennium Falcon_. She made the Kessel run in 12 parsecs and helped save the world, you, you... nerf herder.” He looks ridiculous, flushed and hair mussed from their walk to the ship. He's waving his cuffs wildly, clearly used to speaking with his hands. After he calms down a bit, he starts to look sad again. “I can’t believe Luke would just abandon her like that,” he laments. “I know we had a bad breakup, but I thought we were more to each other than that.” Din sincerely hopes this guy is not going to start crying over his ex.

“I really don’t care,” Din says. “We need to leave. You’re staying cuffed until we get you back. Come on.”

He turns to head up to the cockpit, but Solo says, “Wait! I have to use the fresher.”

Din stops and closes his eyes, sighing deeply in frustration. “Fine. Follow me.”

“No need,” Solo says, walking ahead of him straight to the fresher. “I know where it is.” He flashes a smirk at him that causes Din to roll his eyes yet again.

It doesn't actually matter to Din if Solo is telling the truth or not. Ships change hands all the time, and Solo _clearly_ wasn’t taking great care of it anyway. He wonders if Skywalker knows this Luke character or not. It would explain why he was so vague about the ship's origins. His heart clenches at the thought. It’s possible, he supposes. It’s a small galaxy, after all.

“Hellooo,” Solo whines when they reach the fresher doors, waving his cuffed hands. “Unless you want to wipe my ass, these have gotta come off for now.”

“Fine,” Din snaps, already regretting his decision to keep Solo out of the carbonite. “But if you try anything—”

“I know, I know, you’ll freeze me and sell me to slavers. Got it. Can you just…?”

“I’m not selling you to slavers,” Din mumbles but unlocks Solo’s cuffs all the same.

“Finally,” Solo says, rubbing his wrists. His hands immediately move up to smooth his wild hair down, and Din's eyes track the gesture. “You’re a real bastard, you know that, Mando?”

“Yes,” Din says easily. “Please hurry up.”

The Mandalorian waits patiently by the fresher door, anxiety creeping into his thoughts. If this truly is Solo’s ship, then what if he has a weapon or comms device stowed away? He tried to scour the ship as best as he could before taking off, but… 

Din is pulled out of his thoughts by Solo opening the door and standing in front of him once more. In addition to apparently taking care of his needs, he had also cleaned up and covered up the wound on his shoulder, though the white shirt was still singed. He holds out his hands for the Mandalorian to cuff, surprising him. “Let’s go,” Solo says once cuffed and makes his way to the bridge, Din following helplessly.

He's going to regret this decision, he _knows_ , but it will only for a while longer. He thinks of big green ears and green laser swords, and a ship of his own. Maybe one with a tiny room for his son and a bed big enough for two. _Just a while longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Shoutout to [the Dinluke Server](https://discord.gg/mFw3gTnsVG) for helping build this idea out and for generally being wonderful. I'm capdjarin on tumblr if you want to come say hi! Let me know what you think :)


	2. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Han fall, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating increase from T -> E. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It takes Solo a whole five minutes to break his vow of silence. Din would be impressed if he weren’t so kriffing _annoying_.

“You know, Tin Mando,” he starts, and Din knows he is going to _hate_ whatever comes next. “I know a lot of powerful people.”

“Uh huh.” 

“I do. You know Leia Organa, princess and leader of the rebellion?”

“Not really.”

“She was my ex. And not even to mention rebellion hero Luke—” 

“I don’t care who you know,” Din replies, and he really doesn't. He’d never given up on a bounty just because of powerful connections, and he's not about to change that for this nerf herder. Just cute green children who saved his life, he guesses.

“Fine. I’m just saying. You’re gonna have a couple of pissed off twins coming at you if you turn me in.”

“I can take them.”

“Fine,” Solo huffs.

“Fine,” Din says flatly.

There’s a beat of silence, and Din can’t help but voice the question burning in his ears. “Wait, your exes are twins?” 

“A-yup,” he hears, an obvious brag running through his voice. “And let me tell you, that ass runs in the family—”

“Okay, okay,” Din cuts him off because he’s definitely getting too much information about Solo’s sex life here. He has to push down the amusement at the pure absurdity of this conversation. “Kriff, you’re vulgar.”

“It’s part of the charm,” Solo says, and Din looks back to see him wearing a broad grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, full of infuriating mischief. 

Din turns back to face the ship controls, grip tight. “Whoever told you that is a liar,” he lies.

Solo gets somber again. Remembering better times, Din guesses. “Could be,” he says.

This time, the silence is oppressive, and maybe Din _prefers_ vulgar to this depressing quiet, because he asks, “So how did that work? The twin thing?”

Trusting the autopilot, he turns around to fully face the bounty. 

“Why, you jealous?” Han grins at him again, and Din only hates himself a little for the swoop of attraction in his stomach. This man is nothing like Skywalker, whose blonde hair and blue eyes have been haunting his dreams, but he still wants to touch the dimple on his cheek. 

“Well, I didn’t date them at the same time. Not that I’d be opposed to it, mind you,” he winks, and Din blushes under his helmet. “It just wasn’t in the cards.” He looked down at his cuffed hands, sadness creeping in. He snaps out of it before he can get too melancholy again, that sly look back in his eyes. “They did kiss once, though.” 

That startles Din. “ _What_?"

Han laughs and shakes his head. “It was before they even knew they were siblings, and definitely to prove a point more than anything.”

Din is not sure what the appropriate response is to that, so he says nothing. 

This time, the silence is more comfortable than anything, the two studying each other before Solo speaks up. “I think they would have liked you,” he says. 

Caught by surprise again, he laughs against his will, a quick huff before he can reign it in. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. 

Han smiles at him and it’s kind, despite everything. “They would. We’re not so different, Mando.”

“Yeah, right,” Din says. “We are nothing alike.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.’”

“I’m much less annoying,” Din says before turning around. He can’t keep looking at Solo sprawling in his chair, all long legs and annoying confidence.

“You don’t seem annoyed,” Han says from behind him, and Din is saved from his lack of a rebuttal by a warning on the monitoring system. 

Solo’s voice is suddenly sharp when he says, “What’s going on?”

On closer inspection, it’s clear what’s going on. “Kriffing pirates,” Din complains. He hears Han stand up behind him and move to the console. Din should have cuffed his legs too.

“How many?”

“Two,” says Din, before another one pops into view. He curses; “Three.”

“You gotta get me out of these cuffs,” Solo says.

“Like hell,” Din says. “Why would I do that?”

“I know this ship like the back of my hand. I can get us out of here.”

Din scoffs, trying to focus on outrunning these pirates who were rapidly moving into attack formation. “It’s not happening. I can handle this.” 

“Clearly you can’t,” Han says, leaning over him to mess with various controls using his bound hands, very clumsily.

“Back off,” Din says, trying to push Solo away and regain control. 

“You’re gonna get us killed,” Solo says, and they get into a battle for control over the Falcon. 

“I can handle this if you would just _let me—”_ but before Din can finish that thought, the pirates start shooting. He curses again, and before he can make a decision, a hit lands with a horrifying lurch. 

More warning lights and beeping from the bridge start up, and Han turns him around, holding out his bound wrists. “Please. Let me help.” Din regards him warily but doesn't see a choice, so he unlocks the cuffs, and Han is taking his place at the helm. 

“What did they hit?” he asks. 

“Nothing good,” says Han, who immediately gets to work, fluidly pressing buttons and pushing the ship as hard as it can go. “You need to get to the guns. Give me some time to get us outta here.” 

“Fuck. Okay,” Din says. He can’t collect the bounty if they’re dead, so he goes to man weapons. He gets a few shots in, but the way Han is flying is batshit fucking insane, and he’s finding it impossible to aim with this clunky machine. 

“Can’t you go any faster?” he yells over to Solo. “And maybe, I don’t know, _fly better_?” He gets a good shot in and one of the ships falls back, causing the others to regroup. The respite is only temporary, because:

“I’m trying, you kriffing—” Solo cuts off when another hit lands. The ship shudders and Din knows _that_ can’t mean anything good either.

“Hold on tight, Mando,” he hears, “We’re in for a rough landing!”

“Wait— landing?” Din whirls around to look at the front view and sees a planet very quickly getting larger. He fumbles to buckle the harness in the chair and goes back to the weapons. As if by magic, though, the pirates are pulling back— unwilling, or maybe unable to follow them into the planet’s atmosphere. Din hates being in this position— helpless and not in control. His life is in the hands of his quarry once again. He really needs to stop letting this happen. He pulls the silver ball out of his pocket and grasps it tightly, closing his eyes and bracing for impact. 

* * *

Solo manages to miraculously make land contact, narrowly avoiding the giant green ocean covering most of the planet. The island is mostly white sand, leading up to a densely overgrown forest, full of twisting purple vines. Cara told him he needed a vacation, but he doesn’t think this is what she had in mind.

They regroup outside the ship, feet sinking into the hot sand. 

“What’s the damage?” Din asks.

“Comms are down,” Solo starts, “thrusters too.” 

“So we’re trapped here.”

“Looks like it.”

“I thought you knew how to fly that thing,” Din accuses Solo.

The man spins around to face him. He clearly hit a sore spot based on the reaction and the flush high on his cheeks. Din smirks behind his helm. 

“I could have gotten us out of there if you’d just let me take control of _my ship_ earlier,” Solo retorts.

“Maybe I could’ve gotten us out of there if you hadn’t tried to take control,” Din tells him, flexing his fingers into a fist. 

“You were flying like a bantha,” Han throws back. “We would’a been demolished in minutes if I didn't rescue us. At least we’re, you know, breathing.”

Din has to remember to breathe now, the frustration pounding in his head. “Whatever,” he says, not wanting this argument to come to blows. “We need to get off this planet.”

“What,” Solo says hotly, “so you can sell me to slavers? No way, Mando. I’ve been needing a vacation anyway.”

“I’m not selling you to _slavers_ ,” Din insists, “you have a perfectly legal bounty on your head. I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m sure,” Han says looking away. Then, under his breath: “I’m sure that’s what the Empire soldiers say too.”

That gets a rise out of Din. He’s _nothing_ like the Empire. Din takes a step forward into Solo’s personal space, standing over him by a few inches. “You better watch your mouth,” he threatens darkly. 

“Or what? You could’ve killed me by now and probably still gotten your bounty without dealing with my mug.” Solo juts his chin up in a clear act of defiance, clearly daring Din to take action. 

Before Din can form a response, they hear groaning from the ship, whirling around together in time to watch half of the ship sink into the soft sand.

“God _dammit_ ,” Solo yells. “We have to get off this island.”

“No shit.”

* * *

Things are looking bad. They were bad even before half the ship became entrenched in sand, but with this act of bad luck, things have gotten a whole lot worse. Not only will the repairs be infinitely more difficult, it also takes away the only shelter they have. The forest is not habitable, as Solo learns quickly after trying to explore. 

Din is analyzing some of the fried power converters to see if they could be salvaged when he hears a yell coming from the overgrowth. Solo is running backwards, blaster firing aimlessly, followed by a disgusting looking overgrown lizard, ready to pounce. Solo trips over some vines and falls backwards, thankfully saved at the last minute by Din’s flamethrower. The lizard thing squawks and retreats back into the woods.

Solo gapes up at him for a minute. “Uh, thanks for the assist,” he says, a little wide eyed. He stumbles a bit as he gets to his feet. “I totally had it covered, though,” he insists as if Din didn’t just witness him falling on his ass.

Din says nothing, just takes the chance to look at him.

“Guess we’re staying on the beach,” Solo says faintly.

“Guess so,” Din agrees. 

* * *

They take the day to make shelter, using salvaged parts from the Millennium Falcon to give themselves protection from the elements; the sand, hot sun, and giant lizards not exactly like something they want to deal with without protection. By the time the sun begins setting behind the water’s horizon, they have a decent pair of shelters and a fire going, bickering over every option until they finally make it work.

“We need to figure out how to get out of here,” Din says after they settle down to consume the rations he had stowed away in his satchel. “Soon.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Mando,” Solo tells him with a grimace. “In case you didn’t notice, the ship is buried in kriffing sand. I’ll need to take a look at her tomorrow but it won’t be an easy fix.” He levels a glance at Din. “If we can even escape at all. This might be our new home, kid.” 

“Don’t call me kid,” Din just says. He knows the repairs obviously won’t be easy, but— there has to be a way. He has to get back. He had a plan, but maybe he should have learned by now that no plan of his was ever going to work out smoothly. Din sighs and bows his head, placing his hands on the top of his helmet.

“Why’re you so eager to get out of here anyway? It’s not like you’re on a timeline. I’ll be worth just as much in a month as I am now,” Solo says to him. 

“My son,” he says after a brief moment of silence, hands pulling out the silver ball without thinking. “I promised him.” 

That apparently shuts Han up ( _Finally_ , Din thinks), and they spend a few quiet moments staring into the crackling fire. 

“I think I’ve always wanted a kid,” Han murmurs like a confession. “I’d be a shit dad, though. I’ve never been too good at settling down.”

“No,” Din says, “me either.”

“I’ve tried a few times, to settle down,” Han continues like Din hadn’t said anything, clearly wrapped up in his melancholy. With Leia, Din fills in the blanks, and Luke. “I never was good at loving people more than the open sky, though.”

Tears abruptly burn in Din’s eyes, missing his son, missing Skywalker, missing— well. Missing _home_. He stands too quickly, knocking the last dregs of his rations to the ground along with the silver ball, which lands with a soft thump in the soft sand in front of Solo. 

“I’m going to bed,” Din says gruffly. “Please don't kill me in my sleep.” 

That startles a laugh out of Han, who reaches down to pick up the ball. He hands it back to Din, trying his best to make eye contact. “We’ll get you back to your son, Mando,” Solo says firmly, and he holds out the ball. “I promise.” Din slowly bridges the gap to take it from him, their fingers glancing softly.

Unable to speak around the lump too high in his throat, Din simply nods and turns on his heel back to the shelter. Before he ducks inside, he chances a look back at Solo, who has his face in the palm of his hands, apparently lost in thought.

“Good night,” Din calls, not looking back again as he heads to a fitful night of sleep. 

* * *

Solo is back to his normal, aggravating self the next morning, and they begin to take stock of the damage so they can form a plan. 

“Can’t we just pull it out of the sand?” Din suggests, looking at the ship gleaming in the sun. 

Han fixes him with an unbelieving stare. “Pull it out of the sand,” he repeats, laughing openly at Din. “Look, I know you’re strong, hot shot, I was there when you put me on your shoulder like I was nothing — can’t _stop_ thinking about it, by the way — but there’s no way you could lift a ship, even with the help of my scrawny ass.” Din flushes hotly remembering the feeling of Solo over his shoulder, Din holding onto his calves with gloved fingers.

“Do you have a better idea?” he throws back to change the subject.

“Of course I do,” Solo tells him, frowning. A beat of silence, then: “I just can’t tell you yet.” Solo looks away from Din, jutting his chin up in defiance. 

Din rolls his eyes and sighs, looking the ship over again. “I guess all we can do is try fixing the thrusters. If we can get in and get the thrusters going, maybe we can pull ourselves out.” 

“That’s what I was gonna say!” Han insists, clearly lying though his teeth. How this man made it as a smuggler is baffling to Din.

“Sure you were. Let’s get started.”

* * *

It doesn’t work, not even a little bit. They don’t have the parts they need to make the repairs, nor the access to the sections that need fixing. They spend the first full week trying everything they can think of, with no luck. 

Din begins removing the Beskar covering his body and leaving it in his shelter on the third day after his cooling system runs out of juice in the heat from the sun. It’s hot as kriff under his helmet too, but there’s no way he’s removing that in front of Solo. Not only because of his Creed (which he’s certainly been questioning lately, but not ready to give up on) or because he’s Din’s quarry, but because it’s all that remains as a buffer between them after eating, sleeping, and shitting around each other. 

He abandons the flight suit on day five because it was apparently a sand attractant in addition to being oppressively hot and a pain in the ass to wash out. Soon, he’s just wearing his helmet, athletic pants, and black undershirt, working beside Solo, who apparently decides that shirts are not his style at all. He’s surprisingly toned for someone with such a scrawny ass, as Han had put it, and Din becomes mildly obsessed with a particular dimple in his back, the way the sweat dips into it before disappearing into his trousers.

Din catches Han looking too, occasionally, when he’s standing in the sun, soaked with sweat and drinking water through a straw, or when he’s lifting a particularly heavy part with ease. It’s just the close quarters, Din has to remind himself. Solo probably has a partner in every port to satisfy his needs, but Din is the only one around these days. He can’t come up with a good reason for his own attraction, however.

* * *

* * *

They’re sitting in the sand together leaning against the Falcon, protected from the sun by the tilt of the ship when Han broaches a question that makes Din’s blood run cold.

“What happens if we can’t get out of here?” he asks softly. 

“We will,” Din says. They _will_. Din has gone through hell for his son and refuses to abandon him. For the first time in his life, Din has a purpose, a home, a clan, and he won’t give up on that for anything.

“But. What if we don’t?” Han pushes, and Din runs hot in frustration. 

“Don’t talk like that,” Din grinds out. “I can’t accept it. I won’t. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Han allows, clearly not agreeing. 

They continue to swap the water sleeve back and forth, fingers brushing, and Din’s frustration turns into _want_. 

Solo shifts beside him, his knee brushing Din’s. Din looks over and his breath catches in his throat. Han had widened his legs and Din can see his arousal bulging through his trousers. He can feel Solo’s eyes on him when he looks away, can feel the flush creep down his chest. He’s hard all of a sudden, heat pulsing in his cock, slick developing in his folds. 

Din can feel Han moving closer but still jerks a bit when his hand rests his knee, heat searing through his trousers.

“Mando,” he says roughly, his other hand resting on his groin. “Wanna help me out here?”

Din can’t help but scoff at the _audacity_ and keeps his head facing pointedly away. “Not really,” he grumbles. “I’m sure you know how to take care of yourself.”

Han scoots closer so their bodies are aligned and chuckles, the vibrations sending warmth through Din’s body. “Alright, yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”

All Din can hear is the jangle of the buckle over the sound of his own breathing, and he lets himself look. 

Han is half hard as he pulls his cock out of his pants; he licks his hand as he stares at Din, waggling his eyebrows in a way that is probably meant to be suggestive but just looks ridiculous. It doesn’t stop the throbbing in Din’s pants, though, so he presses his thighs together to give himself some friction and pressure, and it’s- it’s _good_. It’s been a while since he’s taken care of his own needs, usually opting to ignore any arousal and just sleep it off, and even longer still since he’s been with someone else. Not for a lack of wanting, mind— he finds that he wants constantly, but his lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to trysts and lovers. He’s come close to acting on it a few times recently, with Omera, then Cobb, and with Skywalker more recently. He yearns for each of them in different ways, even still. 

He knows he’s wet, even without reaching down his pants to touch himself like he wants to, so he moves his thighs back and forth firmly to relieve himself somewhat, and he knows Han notices the movement as well because he groans, tipping his head back against the ship with a soft thunk. 

“I knew I wanted you, Mando,” Han says, pulling at himself slowly and working himself up to full hardness. “From the first time you cornered me in that bar, I wanted you. Your dumb fucking line. You barely said anything and I was half hard. You don’t need to see someone’s face to know when they’re hot shit. Then you had to go and lift me, and it was one of the hottest things that's ever happened to me.”

Din lets his head loll back as well, leaning his shoulder firmly against Han’s, and just listens to the filth leaving his mouth. 

“I wish you’d touch me,” Han pants, “I bet you’ve got some skilled fingers. I _know_ you’ve got skilled fingers, your hands are probably rough after the work we’ve been doing, but I’m, I want it.” He looks up at Din, breathing hard, eyes blown wide with arousal.

Din wants to, so bad; he’s wet and hot all over, the arousal burning through his body like a firecracker, but— “I can’t,” he bites out. 

“Then touch yourself,” Han breathes. “Please. I. Fuck, I want to see."

“Fuck,” Din can’t help but breathe, and he still _wants_ , so, “Fuck, okay. You’re so annoying,” he accuses.

Han laughs despite how turned on he is, and it turns into a groan. He turns his face to press his forehead against Din’s shoulder. “You don’t seem annoyed.”

He’s not. He fumbles with his belt, the cold metal biting against his fingers, and he finally gains access to touch himself. He slides two fingers down through the thick curls on his groin until finally, finally touches himself, running a finger against his engorged cock, already slick from his arousal. He lets out a heavy breath and lets his legs fall open against Han’s, who bites his lip and speeds up the rhythm of his cock. 

“Fuck yeah,” Han says and bites Din’s shoulder, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. 

He doesn’t really know what Han is getting out of this, considering he can’t actually see what Din is doing, but— well. He must smell it, Din certainly can, and the thought makes him bite his lip. 

“Wanna touch you,” Han says, “Wanna _taste_ you. Bet you taste so fucking good, all wet for me. How long has it been since anyone went down on you?”

Din bites back a groan and moves his hand further down, the tip of one finger teasing his own hole, wet and loose. For better or for worse, Han always seems to know how to hit his buttons, prodding the weak spots in his armor until he finds the vulnerable areas he tries to hide.

“It’s,” the word catches in his throat and he has to clear it before he can continue. “It’s been a long fucking time. But I— I—”

“I know, you can’t,” Han says. “But can I. Can I touch you? Not your—”

“My dick,” Din gets out against his better judgment, “no. But, anything above the belt. Is fine. Please.”

“Fuck yeah,” Han says, moving so he’s kneeling above Din’s left leg, right hand firmly on his own hardness. Han reaches out with his left hand, up and underneath Din’s shirt, thumb on his stomach. The new position is— despite everything, it’s so intimate, Han making eye contact through the visor, hair mussed and flush beautiful on his cheeks. Din wants to touch the hair on his chest so he reaches out and does, fingers brushing through the coarse hair. 

Han sways forward a bit, his knee nudging up against the hand Din has on himself, and the sudden pressure makes him groan and causes another spike of arousal. Din can’t help but move the hand not in his pants to up to sweep over the red on Han’s cheek, then back to card through the dark, thick hair on the nape of his neck. Han sways forward again to lean his forehead against Din’s visor, making Din gasp and press harder against his cock with two fingers, rubbing firmly up and down. Han probably doesn’t understand what it means, but the gesture affects Din profoundly, their faces suddenly so close that Din can see the details of Han’s irises and his eyelashes as they flutter closed.

“What would you do,” Han asks gruffly. “I know you can’t, but if you could—”

“I’d take you up on your offer,” Din says without hesitation, lost in it, “let you go down on me. Make you suck my cock until I come all over your face.” Han groans and licks his lips, breath fogging his helmet. “Then I’d fuck you,” he says. “Hold you down and ride you until I come again. Let you flip me over and fuck my hole until you can’t hold back anymore.”

Din groans and moves faster on his cock, the pads of his fingers rough but smoothed by his arousal, and it’s so fucking good— and he suddenly hits the right angle, and he’s coming, hips grinding up into his hand and thigh shaking under Han’s legs. His knee rises without his permission until it hits right under Han’s hand.

“Yes, Mando, I—” he cuts off and groans, moving his head down to bite at the junction between his neck and shoulder, coming all over Din's shirt. His only shirt, Din notes with annoyance and arousal swirling around together. “Fuck,” Han says as he collapses, boneless, and they’re embracing, sweet and intimate, and it hurts Din's heart.

“Fuck,” Din agrees quietly. He lets his hand rest against the throbbing heat of his dick for a few seconds before withdrawing, his cum clear and elastic all over his fingers. The pads of the fingers he was jerking himself off with are pruny from his wetness, and he moves to wipe them on his own shirt before Han catches his wrist.

Maintaining eye contact, Han takes the fingers into his mouth and licks them clean, tongue deft and swirling around them.

Din feels good, boneless and relaxed; his orgasm was strong and he’s still feeling the aftershocks all the way down his legs to the soles of his feet. He leans his head against the ship again, keeping an eye on Han. 

Han leans forward and embraces him again, a laugh rumbling through his chest. His cock is still out, soft, tip glistening with cum. “Guess our lunch break is over,” he says against Din’s neck.

“Guess so,” Din agrees, but still, he holds on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din: *dreaming about a wholesome relationship with cutie patootie Luke Skywalker*
> 
> Han, taking his shirt off: I’m about to ruin this man’s whole fantasy life
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)


	3. The Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Din find home together, and realizations are made.

“So,” Han broaches the next day. “Why won’t you sleep with me? Is it the…?” he gestures at his own head, clearly meaning Din’s helmet.

“Not exactly,” Din says cautiously. “You’re my bounty. It’s wrong.” 

Han rolls his eyes at him. “No, that’s not it, hot shot,” he says, like a pet name. “Circumstances _change_ ; it’s not like you’re taking advantage of my hot bod. You’re no Jabba the Hutt, if you get what I’m saying.”

“I don’t,” Din says, but doesn’t have a response. 

“So, what,” Han continues. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner of indeterminate gender?”

“No,” Din says quickly before thinking about it. “Yes. Kind of.” He sighs, looking away. “There’s someone who means a lot to me. He’s… watching my son. I was going to go back to him after turning you in. But that’s not why.” He struggles to explain, has never had to explain this part of himself to anyone else. “I don’t… feel restricted with my feelings for people. I can be split into different parts, and it doesn’t diminish what I have with anybody else.”

Han is looking at him appraisingly. “No, I getcha. Your heart's too big for just one person, is that it?”

Din huffs a laugh. Of course Han would be able to express what Din is trying to say better than he can himself. “Yeah, suppose so.”

“Well,” Han says, standing up and stretching; clearly to get a rise out of Din, based on the way he’s looking straight at him and smirking. It works, damn him. Din looks as the edge of his shirt draws up, exposing smooth, tanned skin, and a slightly soft belly. Din remembers back to the previous day, running his hands through the hair on Han’s chest, wanting desperately to move his hand further down. “The invitation is open if you ever get over your morals or whatever. Guess we better get to work, hot shot.” As he moves towards the ship, walking behind Din, he reaches and tugs slightly on the hair growing down past the edge of his helmet at the nape of his neck. 

“Guess so,” Din echos back faintly.

* * *

The first night Han visits Din’s shelter overnight is a little over two weeks after they fell; Din hears footsteps outside of his door and immediately moves to put his helmet on and grab the blaster he keeps under his pillow. 

“You decent?” Han asks from outside and Din relaxes. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice gruff with sleep. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Han says, and walks towards the bed. He shoves at Din’s shoulder, and Din moves over. The only reason he doesn’t put up a fight is because his brain is addled from just having been woken up, surely.

Han climbs into bed next to him, lying flat on his back.

“Bad dreams?” Din ventures, and knows he got it right when Han grasps the covers tight and turns to face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says.

“That’s a first,” Din grumbles, voice still low in his chest. 

Han barks out a laugh. “Yeah, well.” He’s staring up at Din’s helmet as if trying to use magic brain powers to figure something out. Figure _him_ out, maybe. “Turn over, would you? There’s not enough room,” he says, nudging Din’s shoulder again. 

Din turns to face away from Han, who immediately latches onto him like a sarlacc, his arm a heavy weight around Din’s hips, his forehead pressed into the base of Din’s neck. It’s nice to be held like this, Din thinks, almost mortified. He feels safe, here, in the arms of this smuggler, his bounty, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“Go to sleep,” Han whispers against him, lips pressing a soft kiss to his skin.

Din obeys.

* * *

They don’t share beds every night; they’re both fully grown men and the makeshift beds aren’t exactly spacious, but it does become a habit. Din shouldn’t allow this to happen. But he does.

Really, he thinks, his self-imposed rules are coming to bite him in the ass. What they’re doing is so much more dangerous than just sex. This is intimacy, caring… he won’t say it’s love. But. Well. Fuck.

They talk late into the night, sometimes, Han holding Din or the other way around, the security of the dark a gift for speaking truths. Han tells Din about Luke, who Din is pretty sure he’s still in love with, and Din tells him about Grogu and Skywalker, being as vague as possible to keep them safe. The way Han talks about Luke (“He’s good,” Han breathes. “Kind and smart, and _strong_ ; too good for me.”) makes his stomach clench in longing, but for what, Din can't even begin to vocalize.

They talk about their separate adventures, and Han _loses his shit_ when he realizes they both know Boba Fett.

“He tried to kill me,” Han whines.

“You probably deserved it,” Din says, softly bonking his helmet against the back of Han’s head.

* * *

They settle into a comfortable routine, and it would feel almost domestic if their circumstances were a little different. They wake, either together or apart, eat some rations or fresh meat (if they get lucky and a stray animal wanders into camp), work on the ship, eat, sleep, repeat.

Din finds out that they're both very strong willed, their stress, anxiety, and worry often coming out in less than ideal ways, typically at each other without any other outlet. Din has a habit of storming away in frustration, and Han follows him, talking at him relentlessly, gesturing wildly in anger. 

More often than not, Din can’t hold back in the face of Han pushing his buttons, whirling around to snipe back at him. 

Sometimes, they make up by jerking off on each other to get the tension out; other times, a cuddle late into the night suffices. Often, one leads into the other.

* * *

Time passes, as it is wont to do, and Din wakes up one morning, Han’s head on his bare chest, thumb resting on the soft scar tissue under his nipple, and he realizes they’ve been here for six weeks. Six weeks away from his son, away from Skywalker, and the place he had hoped he could call home. His heart breaks over and over again, every time he realizes how long it’s been. He feels a little guilty for being with Han like this, and for feeling happy, despite how horrible and hopeless the entire situation is. 

They still work hard, every day, trying to figure out ways to get them back home, but the longer they’re here, the more distant the hope feels that he’ll ever get back to his family.

Would it be so bad to build a family, here, with Han? He doesn’t know the answer. Can’t imagine a family without Grogu and Skywalker, but he might not have a choice. The thought haunts him for a week straight, leading to many sleepless nights.

* * *

It takes a surprisingly long time for Han to ask directly about his helmet. They’re sitting around the fire in typical formation, Han leaning against a log, long legs splayed out in front of him. Din is sitting on his own log like a _normal person_.

“When was the last time you took that thing off? Not that I mind, uh, exactly, but…” he looks away.

“This morning,” Din tells him, pedantic for the sake of it, the response slipping out with ease after years of practice.

“C’mon,” Han pleads. 

Din acquiesces: “My creed says that no living creature can see my face,” he begins, “except for those in my clan. I’ve… broken it. A couple of times,” he says, “for the sake of my son. To protect him, to show him my love.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

The question surprises Din. He isn’t sure what he was expecting in response, but it wasn’t that. 

“Yes,” Din says. Of course it was. 

Han lets that sit, surprisingly, in silence. 

“I,” Han starts, then cuts himself off abruptly to cover his own face. Din looks at him patiently. “I want to kiss you,” he says, muffled through his fingers.

Din can’t help but let a smile grow on his face. He wants that too, he thinks wildly. 

“I haven’t been kissed,” he says, and Han looks at him, clearly surprised. “Not since I was a foundling.” He thinks back to his teenage years, before he took the creed, soft kissing in corners and after practice. “I’m guessing it’s not the same,” he laughs.

“No,” Han says, a smile creeping onto his face. “I bet you were a cute kid.”

Din is glad Han can’t see the blush growing on his face. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“I know enough,” he says, tilting his head as if he can see through Din’s helmet. 

Din thoughtlessly reaches back to touch the tuft of hair growing from under his helmet, remembering the feel of Han tugging on it. He knows it’s gotten _long_ since they’ve been here, but without a mirror, he can’t be sure. He knows his mustache and stubble have certainly grown into an almost fully grown beard under there, though his facial hair has always been somewhat patchy so he’s not sure how _cute_ it would be. He’s not exactly going for _cute_ these days anyway. 

“I have an idea,” Din says before he can cop out. “Stay here.”

He stands up stiffly, and turns to head to his shelter. He’d heard whispers of an alternative method, as a foundling, a way to ease the way for intimacy without breaking the creed. It’s not proper, by any means, but these are not proper _circumstances_. After digging through his meagre supplies, he finds what he’s looking for. Din turns back around to see Han leaning against the entrance, hands in his pockets.

“Whatcha got there?” he asks, grinning like he already knows. 

“I can’t let you see my face,” Din gets out, holding up the swath of fabric in his hand. “Not until you’ve met my son, and… if we decide to build a clan together.” His throat works around a lump of feelings; anxiety, love, grief. “But this…” he trails off, hoping his meaning is clear enough.

Han’s smile grows even wider, and he walks towards Din. “A _loophole_?” he crows in glee. “Kinky! I’m into it.” 

“Turn around,” Din tells him, and Han obeys. “Do you trust me?”

“Course I do, Mando.” 

That makes Din pause. “My name is Din,” he tells the back of Han’s head. “Din Djarin.”

Din can’t see his face, but he can imagine the smile working its way across Han’s face, can hear it in his voice when he says, “Din,” like a prayer. “Han Solo and Din Djarin. The universe better be glad we’re stuck here cause we’d take the galaxy by storm, baby.”

“Shut up,” Din says fondly. “Close your eyes.” He lifts up the makeshift blindfold and covers Han’s eyes with it, wrapping it snugly around his head, mussing up his hair a little bit. 

“I trust you,” he tells Han as he’s tying the knot. He puts his hands on Han’s shoulders and turns him around. 

“I know,” Han says, once he’s facing Din.

Din reaches up to his helmet, lock releasing with a hiss, and he lifts the cool metal up and off his head. He throws it to the bed without looking, too busy memorizing at Han’s face, unguarded, vision unclouded for the first time in weeks.

"I mean," Din huffs. This asshole never did make things easy, did he? "I _trust_ you. Because I love you." 

Han's smile goes even wider, somehow, now a full on shit-eating grin. "I know."

"You are so annoying," Din says, and reaches up to brush the hair swept across Han's forehead.

"You don't seem annoyed," Han parrots softly, face suddenly serious, and he sways forward, his forehead coming into contact with Din's cheek. His hair is soft against his skin. Han laughs and Din can feel it make its way deep into his chest.

“I’m not,” Din whispers, lips moving against Han’s temple.

Han reaches up blindly to feel at Din's face, and Din gasps at the contact; Han is the second person to touch him like this in more than a couple decades. He's familiar with Han's hands, but it feels different, feels like _more_ , and Din yearns to close the gap between them.

Han, of course, takes the chance. After feeling out his lips, Din's tongue brushing against the tip of his fingers when he goes to wet them, Han grasps him on each side of his head, thumbs brushing against his facial hair, and draws him forward, their mouths finally, finally meeting. A little misaligned, at first, but Din loves it, loves Han with everything, loves this so much it hurts. 

Din isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands, a little too overwhelmed to move, can’t focus on anything except Han’s soft lips on his, their breath mingling. Thankfully, Han decides to take charge. Han moves his right hand to grab hold of the back of Din’s head, fingers tangling in the dark curls there, and his other hand wraps low around his waist, resting at the top of his ass, his fingers skimming the strip of skin at the edge of Din’s pants, making him shiver slightly. 

He uses the hand on Din’s head to tilt him somewhat to the side, then fits their mouths together again, and, _oh_. Din suddenly gains access to his faculties again and moans into Han’s mouth, hands moving to his hips, bringing their bodies closer together until all he can sense is _Han_. 

They kiss like that, for a minute, standing there, getting to know each other’s mouths, relishing the feel of their bodies together, until Han decides to draw back and nip at Din’s lip, soothing it with his tongue. 

“I love,” Han starts, panting against his lips, “this loophole.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Din says, and opens his mouth to Han, operating on pure instinct to kiss and kiss and kiss him, tongues exploring, teeth nipping. Din wants _more_ ; he can feel himself getting hot all over, and wet between his legs, can feel Han’s erection hot against his thigh. Han’s hands begin to explore his body: his hips, his ass, making Din gasp and press up against him harder, their groins coming into contact through the layers of pants between them.

This makes Han gasp and pull his face back, only a little bit, their bodies still moving together. “Wait,” he says, holding onto Din. He then chuckles and licks his lips, which Din notices look red, full, and very well kissed. 

Din grasps his shirt to draw him back in, not understanding why Han would stop, but Han laughs at him ( _rude_ ), and pulls back again. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Din,” he says, and it sends shivers down his spine. “You gotta tell me what you want here.” 

Han is trying to look up at Din as well as he can with the blindfold securely tied around his eyes. 

They’re still connected from the chest down, hands touching and rubbing idly, but Din is able to focus a little more on what Han is asking now that the fire is toned down a bit. 

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. He’s no virgin; he used to find pleasure with an occasional stranger, or even job partners, in his younger and more impulsive days, but this is— _different_. “Can we just take it slow?” he proposes cautiously. 

Han breathes out and nods. “Slow. Okay, hot shot, we can take it slow.” He moves to extract himself from Din’s arms, but Din pulls him back in, holding on tight.

“Not that slow,” Din says, low in his chest, and steals a kiss.

Han laughs at him again, but folds back into his arms with ease, like he belongs there. “Okay. Heard, loud and clear.” He tilts his head up at Din, and says, “How about you take the lead, then?”

“I can do that,” Din says, arousal flaring in his stomach and making its way down to his hot, wet dick at the thought. 

“Then do it,” Han teases, and Din does _not_ need to be told twice.

He reaches to grasp Han’s waist with one hand and lifts him off the ground, just a few inches.

Han’s reaction is immediate; he moves his hands to Din’s shoulders to steady himself and woops. “Now that’s more like it,” he croons. 

Din only needs to move Han a small distance over to his makeshift bed, the one they’ve been sharing off and on ever since they started… whatever this is. He manhandles Han until he’s sitting on the bed, Din standing between his long legs. 

Han wastes no time in kissing him again and says, “That was so fucking hot, Din.”

“I know,” Din intones, mocking, and moves back in to shut him up. Both of his hands are in Han’s hair, tilting his face up so he can kiss him over and over again. He wants to cover Han up and be covered by Han in equal measure, so close together that they fall into each other and come up unrecognizable.

Han moves his hips slightly where he and Din are connected, rubbing against the heat of his cock. Din’s arousal isn’t soaking through his pants yet, but the feeling is enough that it makes Han groan into his mouth and grasp at his back, trying to pull him even closer. They kiss like this, grinding up against each other, each push and pull filthy and so hot, for a few minutes before Han pulls back again. 

He wraps his legs around Din’s waist and tugs at the edge of Din’s shirt. “Can I,” he starts, aborted. “Will you,” he tries again, but Din gets the picture, and reaches down to pull his shirt up and over his head.

Han is all over him immediately, leaning his face into the hair covering Din’s chest and fucking inhales. “You smell good,” he says against Din’s chest. He starts to explore Din’s shoulders and chest until he encounters Din’s nipples. “Are you sensitive here?” he asks, running a thumb over one of them, the palm of his hand resting on the faded scar below.

“No,” Din says, “but I like it when you touch me anywhere.” He leans his forehead against Han’s, and they breathe together for a bit. Han’s hands map out his chest, the two of them still rutting lazily with arousal. They start kissing again soon enough, unable to keep from gravitating towards the hot wet heat of each other’s mouths, Han keeping his legs in place around Din. 

Han ends up leaning back, in a not-so-subtle attempt to change their position, and Din is more than happy to oblige, leaning forward with him. He puts his hands under Han’s thighs and lifts him so Han is laying back on the bed. Din is hovering over him, their legs slotted together like a puzzle.

They grind together like that, lazily, heat building, until Han grumbles, “Too many layers.” His hands are trying to explore the skin underneath Din’s pants. 

Din has to agree so he pulls back reluctantly to stand up and remove his pants, leaving on his underwear (for now, his brain supplies). Han has his hands on his own pants, struggling fruitlessly to get them down, so Din lends a hand. “Up,” he says, hands low on his hips. Han obeys and lifts his hips, letting Din take off his trousers. 

Din shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that Han wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Really?” he asks, going back to cover Han’s body with his own. 

“Easy access,” Han pants, “C’mon already.”

The great pants removal pays off in a big way, no pun intended, and Din relishes the sheer amount of skin to skin contact as they continue making out, Han rubbing his erection on his leg. Han lifts the leg between Din’s own to rub firmly against his mound, the friction and pressure on his dick so, so, good. 

“You like that?” Han asks, biting his lower lip and tugging gently.

“ _Yeah_ ,” is Din’s response, and they’re grinding into each other with intent now, kissing sloppily and chasing after their pleasure, hands roaming, touching everywhere they can reach. Din sits back on his knees, riding Han’s thigh, the wetness from his cunt smearing on his pale skin through his boxer briefs. 

Din takes Han in hand, which apparently takes him by surprise, because he lets out a strangled noise and jerks his hips up. Din just holds him by the base to give him some time to adjust.

“Din,” he whines, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“If I’m lucky,” Din retorts, and works his hand on Han’s dick, though there’s too much friction for it to be too successful. He draws his thumb over the tip, and Han makes a keening noise in the back of his throat. Still straddling Han’s leg, Din leans forward to take the tip of his erection into his mouth, tongue working on the uncut tip. 

“Oh,” Han breathes, “Din, yes.” His hands move to Din’s head, carding through his hair.

This is not something Din has ever done before, on this end, but he’s seen enough holos that he knows the general logistics. He goes slow, getting used to the sensation and the taste of Han’s dick, so hard and _big_ in his mouth. He takes in a couple of inches before pulling off to catch his breath, his hand moving again, using the saliva to slick up Han’s cock. He can still feel the stretch of his jaw from his mouth on Han and wants to taste him again, so he leans back in, puts his tongue flat against the underside of his dick and takes him back into his mouth.

“Your fucking _mouth_ ,” Han says, filthy. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Din laughs around him, which elicits a very interesting reaction, and drums on his hip as if to say, _you aren’t seeing anything right now_.

Han laughs, breathless. “You know what I mean, asshole,” he says, but it lacks punch, considering the other sounds that are escaping his mouth. 

Din has a good rhythm by now, head bobbing up and down, salivating all over Han’s dick. Curious and playful now that he’s finally got a grasp on this whole thing (again, no pun intended), Din hums around Han. Just to see what happens. The moan it elicits is _delicious_.

“God, I knew you’d be a fucking natural,” Han tells him, and his hands tighten in Din’s hair, and that’s— _oh_. 

Din moans and sucks harder, letting Han know how much he fucking loved that. Han gets the hint and pulls harder, guiding his head up and down, and Din just lets it happen, focusing on sucking and using his tongue to massage right under the tip. 

“Fuck,” Han slurs, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

Din wants Han’s _cum_ in his _mouth_ , so he just hums again, taps another message onto his skin: _bring it on_.

Han is never one to back down from a challenge, so he keeps his grip in Din’s hair steady, bucking up into his mouth, making Din choke a bit before pulling back. Din loves this whole filthy situation, so he just keeps sucking and licking until Han’s grip gets tighter and he moans, coming in Din’s mouth. 

Before Din can even consider the etiquette for situations when one has semen lingering on one’s tongue, Han is pulling on his hair and pawing at his shoulder saying, “Get up here,” and Din obliges. 

He runs a hand through Han’s hair, taking in his post-orgasm face, blissed out and bright red, some sweat drying on his brow. Han leans up to kiss him, and Din realizes he _must_ taste his own cum on Din’s tongue. The thought makes Din moan, Han just deepening the kiss, licking into his mouth. 

Din’s own arousal had dimmed mildly while he was focusing on blowing Han, but it has come back in full force now. 

He just keeps sloppily kissing Han and grinding down on his thigh, until Han breaks the kiss and asks, “Can I touch you?” 

Din licks his lips, relishing the lingering taste and burn from the kissing and cocksucking. Wordlessly, he takes Han’s hand and guides him down, into the front of Din’s underwear. Han is sitting up now, perched on one elbow, with the other hand finally touching Din. Han groans when he makes contact with the hot slick between his folds, and Din responds in kind when his fingers reach his cock, exploring softly. But Din doesn’t want _soft_ , so he grinds down on Han’s fingers, leaving his hand trapped for Din to rub back and forth on. 

“I’ve been,” Din starts, panting, when Han gets with the program and rubs his dick firmly with two fingers. “I’ve been dreaming about your fingers,” he confesses.

Han rubs him faster, fingers glancing over his hole when he overshoots his dick. That makes Din clench down, and he realizes wants to be filled there, too. He suddenly wants to be free of the confines of his boxers, so he reluctantly pulls Han’s hand back and climbs off the bed.

He sees Han move to smell his fingers and then lick them, and that’s not fucking _fair_ , so he moves quickly to remove the final layer and get back on top of Han, pulling his arms above his head and pinning his wrists.

“Well hi there,” Han says, smirking at him. Din straddles Han’s hips, bringing his cunt in contact with Han’s spent cock, loving the way it twitches against him at the sensation. He grabs Han’s hand again, bringing it back to touch him between his legs. 

“You should finger me,” Din says, Han’s fingers already rubbing firmly on his sensitive dick. 

“Thank the force,” Han says, sitting up and tipping Din back. Han pauses, hand covering Din’s cunt, making Din feel warm and want more. He seems to have realized that he can’t exactly maneuver them if he can’t see, so Din takes it upon himself to help them find a better position. Han is on his side next to Din, one leg slung over Din’s. Din’s knees are spread apart, Han reaching over his belly to rub between his legs.

Din is suddenly thankful for the blindfold, for more than just his creed. He feels held wide open and vulnerable, fully naked, legs apart, wet glistening on the thick curls around his cock and vulva. He feels dizzy suddenly, the arousal mixing with unwanted anxiety caused by the new position.

“You okay?” Han asks from beside him, and he kisses the first patch of toned skin he can reach, which happens to be right above Din’s armpit. He wrinkles his nose when he realizes what he was kissing, but goes back for a second kiss in the same spot anyway. 

Din takes a deep breath and smiles at this sweet, foolish man he’s sharing a bed with. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Just let me—” 

Din shifts slightly so he can lean over and kiss Han, chaste at first, letting the taste and feeling of him burn through his body. Din had gotten a little dry from the open air and that moment of anxiety, so Han rubs him gently, fingers around his dick, dipping into his slit for lubricant once he feels Din starting to get wet again. They moan at the same time and melt into each other, kissing wetly, picking the pace up once more. 

Han’s fingers tease his hole a few times, a fingertip dipping in and out before Din can clench down on it. Eventually Din has enough, and whines, pushing his hips up into Han’s hand, trying to make him get the damn hint already. 

“Hey now,” Han says after he pulls back slowly, fingers still not in him, what the fuck. “You’re gonna have to ask for what you want.” He’s smiling at Din, and Din wishes he could see the wrinkles around his eyes that usually come with this smile. 

“You’re the worst,” he says, “just fuck me already,” trying to get a rise out of Han. 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you, do you,” Han all but growls. Din is proud that his ploy apparently worked like a charm. Han moves so he’s half laying on top of Din, their chests pressing together, so he can get a better angle at Din’s cunt. Two fingers circle his hole, Han brushing against his cock with his thumb all the while. 

“You should be nicer to me,” Han whines, dipping two fingers into Din, in and out for a few seconds before moving deeper and rubbing against his walls trying to find the right angle.

“How did you get so good at this?” Din asks.

“The twins,” he grouses against Din’s temple once he massages an area inside of Din that makes him buck up involuntarily. “They were both very, ah, particular,” he says, angling his fingers again, making Din pant and push up against him. “I learned a few things.” 

Apparently so. Din is panting still, and his hips keep tilting of their own accord, trying to get more friction from Han’s fingers inside of him. He moves his own hand down to play with his dick, letting Han focus on fucking him with his fingers. 

“Ah,” he cries when Han hits the exact right angle, and he adds a third finger, pressing up inside of him, oh so good, clearly paying attention to the way Din’s body reacts around him, hole twitching and clenching. “Right there,” he pants, rubbing two fingers along his cock, and he’s suddenly lost in pleasure, coming hard, cunt pulsing around Han’s fingers. Han, thank the Force, doesn’t stop, keeps working his fingers in and out, and Din just keeps coming and coming, until it gets to be too much and he pulls Han's hand out of him. Han keeps his hand on his cunt, massaging him through the aftershocks, fingers playing with his cum. 

Han’s fingers try to move back to Din’s dick, maybe to see if he wants a second, but Din is overstimulated as it is, so he grabs Han’s hand, stopping him. 

“Aw,” Han says, wrapping his arm around Din’s waist. “I was hoping for another.” 

Din just laughs, breathless, and says, “Maybe later. If you’re good.”

Din really should get up, take a piss to prevent an infection and wipe the filth off of their bodies. He can’t bring himself to extract himself from Han’s hold, though, so he just turns to face him and closes his eyes. They drift like that, holding each other until morning. 

* * *

He wakes up to Han propping himself up on one elbow beside him, his other hand tracing shapes on his chest.  
  


“Morning,” Han drawls.

“Morning,” Din says back, voice thick with sleep. He runs a hand through his beard and the hair on his head before asking, “‘time is it?”

“Who knows,” Han says and his hand rests softly over Din’s heart. “I gotta pee though.”

Blinking to get the sleep out of his eyes, he realizes that he’s still helmetless and Han is still blindfolded. Panic grips him, abruptly, remembering where he is. 

“You didn’t look, did you?” he asks.

Han frowns at that. “Of course not. Who do you think I am?”

Din breathes and relaxes. He _knows_ Han wouldn’t look, but Din can’t seem to escape the fear that’s followed him all of his life. 

“Let me put it back on so you can get up.” He sits up to move, but Han catches him in a kiss before he can get anywhere. 

“Just wanted to do that one last time,” Han says.

Din kisses him back, pouring the feelings pounding in his chest into Han’s mouth. 

“It won’t be the last time,” Din promises.

Han relinquishes his grip on Din, and Din puts the helmet back on his head. He’s still completely nude, sheet pooling in his lap. 

He pulls the blindfold from Han’s eyes, running his hands through his hair afterwards. 

“You’re scruffy,” he tells Han as he plays with his hair. Han smiles at him, and Din reaches out to touch the wrinkles at his eyes, the ones he was fantasizing about the previous night.

“You look so good like this,” Han says, running one hand down the side of his body to his ass. 

“Go pee,” Din laughs.

“Okay, okay.” Han stands up, stretching. Din takes his form in, looking at his shoulders, his ass, his legs, his dick. He’s gorgeous, and Din knows he’s so lucky to have him in his bed. 

Han leans forward to kiss the top of Din’s helmet and goes outside the tent to take a leak.

Din breathes out and flops back on the bed, the memories from yesterday flooding in as he takes stock of his own body. His jaw is sore and there’s a tension in the back of his throat from taking Han’s dick in his mouth, and his cunt is still wet and sensitive from Han’s ministrations. 

He hears Han squawk from outside, and Din sits up, suddenly on edge. 

“Din,” Han yells, running into the shelter. “We got company.” 

They both move quickly to get clothes on, Din taking some extra time to put on his armor, touching the mudhorn signet. It’s been a while, so he takes a second to re-adjust to the weight and feel of the armor, still protective and familiar from his many years wearing it for days on end.

They run outside to see a ship flying towards where they’re camped out, getting ready to land. 

“We’re saved!” Han says, but Din is not so optimistic.

“Maybe. I have a bad feeling about this. We should find cover.”

They find a spot where they’ll be hidden from view by whoever comes out of that ship and watch with bated breath, blasters armed and ready. Maybe they _are_ saved, Din realizes. Even if they aren’t friendly, he and Han can take them down and use the ship to get off this kriffing island. 

The ship lands, sand flying everywhere. Din is thankful for the helmet to protect him from the elements, but Han is not so lucky, looking away and coughing. He offers up his cape to Han, who uses it to cover his nose and mouth, still grimacing at the sand in his face. 

The ship settles in the sand, and two IG-11 bounty droids come out of the ship.

“Sub paragraph sixteen of the Bondsman's Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce the asset [ Han Solo ]. Failure to do so will result in [ termination ].”

“Bounty droids,” Han hisses. 

“Great,” says Din, sighing.

“We can take ‘em,” Han says confidently.

“I agree.” He analyzes the situation then nods at Han. “Go around,” he directs, pointing. “We can flank them and take them down.”

“Aye, aye,” Han tells him with a lazy salute. Before he can move away, Din grasps the back of his head and brings him in for a keldabe kiss. Han smiles at him, closing his eyes for a second, and brings his hand up to grab the back of Din’s head as well. 

They stay there for a second before Din finally releases him and says, “Go. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Han nods in affirmation and moves to take position. About halfway, one of the droids spots him, states, “You must remand yourself to custody,” and begins shooting when Han rolls out of the way. 

“Dank ferrik,” Din swears under his breath. If he had his rifle, he’d be able to take these two with no problem, but his blaster won’t do much damage at this range, and he wouldn’t be able to take down both hand to hand before they get a shot in on Han. He quickly takes the bounty tracker out of his utility belt.

“Wait,” Din yells, standing up with his hands in the air, showing the tracker. “He’s my bounty. We got shipwrecked and stranded.”

The droids stay silent, calculating the meaning in their central processing units. “Then,” one states, “we are here to rescue you.” 

“Yes,” Din says, “thank you. If you can give us a ride, I will split the bounty with you three ways.” A lie, of course; he planned to kill these droids as soon as possible. 

“Very well,” the closer droid states. “I will eliminate the asset and we will return.” 

The droid raises his gun. Din tries to stop him immediately, moving his body between Han and the droids. “No, we’ll bring him in alive.”

The droid processes for another moment before saying, “Negative. He is worth more dead than alive. Move aside.” 

_Worth more dead…?_

Blood rushes to Din’s ears in horror, and he suddenly realizes he wasn’t just hired to bring in a bounty: he was hired to assist with an _assassination_. 

There’s no way around it. Din grabs the barrel of the gun of the droid nearest to him, pulling it closer and kicking it into the other droid, grip on the arm secure enough that it comes clean off in the kick. The other droid staggers with the sudden impact, shooting wildly into the ground, giving Han an opportunity to roll behind cover, shooting at it as he moves. 

One of Han’s shots makes impact on the gunless droid’s head, causing sparks to shoot out as it keels over, motionless. The remaining droid sets its sights on Din. He tosses the defunct droid arm to the side, reaching to his holster to find— his gun isn’t there. 

He hears Han yell, “Mando!” from somewhere to his side, warning him of something—

Oh. He hears the click of a blaster arming itself and feels the tip against the base of his skull.

Din mentally curses himself— how could he be so stupid as to assume the droids were the only ones on the ship. And to let them get his _blaster_. He was so focused on the idea of getting back to Grogu and Skywalker that he completely forgot his basic tactical training. 

Thankfully, the bounty hunter behind him doesn’t even get a word out (He probably would have said something like, “My my, the infamous Mandalorian,” he’s heard it so many times already) before Han takes action, leaping out from his cover to get a shot at the man, shooting him dead. Din quickly grabs the his blaster out of the downed man's hand. Han grins and winks at Din for a second before they turn back on the bounty droid.

“Move and you’re dead,” Han says. 

“My protocol dictates I am to be destroyed before I am taken into custody,” the droid states. “Self destruct in 5… 4…”

Din’s stomach drops and he takes immediate action, moving to grab Han around the waist, dragging him as far away as possible towards the dead bounty hunter’s ship. He knows he can't get there in time, and he’s _seen_ the impact IG-11 can have, so he drags Han to cover behind a sturdy tree, and moves to cover him as much as possible. Din, at least, has the beskar to protect him— Han only has his clothes, flesh, and blood. He sends a quick thought to someone, somewhere, hoping that the beskar holds against the blast.

“Din, what are you _doing—_ ” he starts, looking up at him.

“3… 2…” 

Din braces as the droid reaches _1_ and looks Han in the eye. 

“I love you,” he says, ducking his head, and fire explodes behind them. 

* * *

Things are… fuzzy for Din immediately following the blast. Han, pushing him off, mostly unharmed, Han yelling his name, hovering over him. A flash of being dragged across the hot sand, then being inside of a ship. 

His ears are ringing so he tries to shake his head to clear it out, then someone (Han?) holding him steady. He tries to open his eyes and sees a blurry figure above him… Speaking? He can’t hear anything above the ringing, closes his eyes to ward off a headache. There are hands prodding him, all over, and it’s annoying, so he tries to bat them away. He’s _sore_ all over, he realizes. His brain fog starts to lift a bit, the ringing still loud in his head. He does his best to sit up, and Han helps him, leans him against the wall.

He sees the fuzzy figure he assumes is Han kneeling in front of him, talking to him while checking his body. For injuries, Din remembers hazily. 

“I CAN'T HEAR,” Din says at what he assumes is a normal noise level but will never know for sure. Speaking hurts, he thinks miserably. Everything hurts. “ARE YOU OKAY,” he asks Han even though he wouldn't be able to hear the answer. He sees fuzzy Han reach up, covering up his visor for a moment, then suddenly he can see Han, looking at him with panic in his eyes. 

Din gasps and breathes out in quick succession, then reaches up to clasp the back of Han’s head in his hand, kissing him like he had earlier, forehead touching against the cool metal of Din’s helmet. Din can see Han breathe shakily as he leans down to meet the kiss, pressing firmly. Han is talking to him, and Din just wants to know what he’s saying, wants to get closer to him. Brain still addled by the explosion and not thinking clearly, Din reaches up to his helmet, just wanting it gone. 

With a frown, Han stills his hands on either side of his helmet, shaking his head. He grabs gloved Din’s hands then, and brings them down, away from a decision he certainly can’t make in this state. 

Han stands up, then, leaves him, and Din tries to keep a hold on his hand as he walks away. He’s not gone for too long, returning with a hypo in one hand. He holds it up so Din can see, then moves to tilt Din’s head to one side, pulling fabric aside to bare some skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. A quick sting then Han smooths the pain away with a thumb against bare skin. 

Han kisses him at the top of his visor, then says something to him gently, squeezing his arm. Din can’t tell, but thinks it might have been, “Sleep.” It comes easy to him, now, slipping into the dark, Han’s hand in his.

* * *

He wakes alone, but in a cot, as if by magic. He’s still fully armored, as well, and in pain across his entire body. The ringing is gone, however, and he can hear the hum of the ship as they fly through hyperspace. 

He stands up, his muscles strongly disagreeing with his choices, but he manages, every molecule on fire. Nothing seems to be broken and his brain is still working, so Din honestly counts it as a win.

Din makes his way through the ship, bracing himself on the wall to stay upright, and finally finds Han in the cockpit. 

Han glances back at him, clearly not expecting him to be up and about by now, and smiles at him so sweetly that Din might cry. They escaped together, they’re here, they’re _safe_. He can introduce Han to Grogu, figure things out with Skywalker. He sways a little bit, then, as more pain and exhaustion hits him, and Han jumps up to help him into the copilot’s chair next to him.

“How are you,” Din gets out, looking Han all over. He has a few cuts and bruises here and there, but looks as beautiful as always. Din wonders if maybe the medicine is making him loopy.

Han laughs at him, openly. “How am _I_ ? I’m not the one who acted as a blast shield with his _body,_ hot shot,"Han says, and, well, that’s fair. 

“How are _you_ feeling?” Han asks.

“In pain,” Din grunts out honestly. “But alive. I missed you,” he all but wines.

Han smiles at him and grabs Din’s hand in his. 

“Where are we going?” Din asks, lacing their fingers together. 

Han looks sideways at him. “You don’t remember?” he asks. “You woke up for a hot minute earlier and gave me some coordinates before passing out on the cot.” He casually touches some buttons on the dashboard in front of him, too casually asks, “You know we’re going to Yavin IV?”

It’s what Din, assumed, honestly. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s where my son is. We can rest there. Regroup. Figure out… our plan?” he asks tentatively, squeezing Han’s fingers. “I can’t tell you more, but we will be safe there.”

Han just looks at him and nods, squeezing back. Din wonders if maybe there’s something he’s missing, a piece of the puzzle he can’t see.

“Actually,” Din broaches. “Are we within comms reach?” 

Han flicks a few buttons. “Should be. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”

“I need to make a call,” Din says, “to let my contact know we’re coming.”

Han leans back and grins at him. “Your _contact_ , huh. Is that the guy you’ve been swooning over these past couple months? The one besides me, of course,” he boasts, puffing out his chest in exaggeration. Din is suddenly relieved, strangely glad that Han is still _Han_ outside of the freedom that came with life stranded in the sand.

“Yeah,” Din agrees easily. “I need to make sure he won’t shoot us out of the sky on sight.” Din has seen what Skywalker is capable of, both in his X-Wing and on the ground, and he is not a force to be reckoned with. 

“Your man is paranoid,” Han says, “I like it. Go ahead,” he says, gesturing at the comms panel. “I’m gonna scrounge up some grub.” He squeezes Din’s shoulder as he leaves the room.

Din punches in Skywalker’s comms code, and it patches him in to leave a message. “Master Skywalker,” he begins. Too formal, but he’s already in it. “I apologize for not reaching out to you sooner. I crash landed the Falcon and was stranded for two months and have just now been able to get a ship to come back.” He pauses, sweating about how to explain Han. “I have someone with me who needs to lie low for a bit. His life is in danger and we have nowhere else to go. I trust him with my life.” Not sure what else there is to say without spilling secrets on an open comms channel, he just clears his throat and continues, “We should be arriving within the hour. I’ll be home soon,” he finishes, cutting the line. Maker, but that was embarrassing. 

He peers around at the cockpit and lets his mind wander. It’s almost hard to believe that he’ll be seeing Grogu again in less than an hour. Hopefully he’ll be able to show Din some cool new Jedi tricks he learned from Skywalker. 

Din is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. “I’m done,” he calls to Han standing in the doorway, two bags of rations in his hands. 

“This is all they had,” he says, waving them around as he talks. “Was hoping for something a little more substantial since we've been living on this shit for two months, but oh well.” 

He hands one of the bags to Din, who takes it with no intention to eat right now. 

“Reminds me of home,” Din jokes.

Han looks at him, his face a mixture of sadness, love, and insecurity that hits Din hard in the stomach. 

“Hey,” Din says, reaching out to put his hand on Han’s knee. 

“I’m okay,” Han says, choked up. Din wishes he had Jedi mind powers so he could figure out what was going on in his head. “It’s just—”

And suddenly Din gets it and understands the fear, deep in his bones. “It’s been just the two of us,” he says cautiously, “for a long time.” 

Han nods. “It’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking, ‘what if he doesn’t like me?’” 

Din hooks his ankle with Han’s and wonders if he means Grogu or Skywalker. “Which one?” he probes, but Han apparently doesn’t feel like expanding further on the question and looks away, arms folded across his chest. It could be convincing if his eyes weren’t flitting to Din the whole time. 

It doesn’t matter; his answer would be the same no matter what: “He will.”

Han breathes out and brings his other leg around to rub at Din’s ankle. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

* * *

They arrive at Yavin IV right on schedule. Han flies in low under the trees to land on the pad next to Skywalker’s X-Wing.

Din notices Han tense next to him. “Wait,” he says, frowning, as if trying to figure out a math problem. “What is that?”

“The X-Wing?” Din asks. “That’s—”

But he’s interrupted by Han before he can finish the thought.

“ _Luke_?!” 

Han, no longer interested in the X-Wing, is staring wide-eyed at the figure waiting to greet them outside of the ship. It’s Skywalker, dressed in black and holding Grogu in his arms. 

“That’s _Skywalker_ ,” Din says slowly.

Han stares at him slack jawed for a minute before laughing harder than Din had ever seen, doubled over, one hand covering his face.

When he stops laughing to breathe, he looks at Din. "You're saying," he starts, “your 'contact', aka the man you’ve been _mooning_ after for _months_ , is ‘Skywalker’?” 

Din can just nod, his brain still fuzzy with pain and medication, doesn’t fit the pieces together until Han swoops forward to press a kiss to the cheek of his helmet and squeeze him tightly around the shoulders. 

“Din, you stupid, beautiful man." He pulls back slightly, arms draped over his him. " _Din_ ,” he presses, a little crazed, “that’s _Luke_. Hero of the rebellion, Jedi Master, the man who has been watching your son, my god damn ex-boyfriend, _Luke Skywalker_.”

Din looks at Han, shocked but finally processing the realization. A kriffing giggle bubbles to his lips, hilarity mixed with shock and worry turning into sounds he apparently has no control over.

“There’s no way...” Din says, but— well, it does make sense. Everything fits suddenly, the puzzle finally coming together. “It’s why he had the Falcon,” Din says, and that elicits another guffaw out of Han. 

“And why you were so determined to protect his identity,” Han adds. 

He looks out the window to Skywalker— _Luke_ still waiting patiently out there. “What do we _do_?” he asks, hysterics turning into a low level panic. 

“You,” Han says, taking a hold of his shoulders to guide him down the hallway, “are going to greet your son and your _boyfriend_ ,” the last word slightly mocking. Din rolls his eyes. “And I am going to get ready to scare the shit out of my ex.” 

“Okay,” Din agrees, not feeling ready in the slightest. 

“And Din,” Han says, suddenly wrapping his arms around Din’s shoulder from behind in a firm hug, “I love you.”

Din finally smiles again. They’re going to be okay.

“You’re so annoying,” Din says, gripping Han’s arms quickly before disembarking. Wildly, he hopes, for _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Han: DIN WE ARE LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH THE SAME PERSON
> 
> Din:
> 
> WOW, uh, so this chapter was nearly twice the length of the previous chapters alone. 
> 
> Next chapter, get ready for very sexy, uh, *looks at hand* polyamorous relationship negotiations. Oh boy!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! Feel free to come scream about these dumbasses with me on tumblr, @capdjarin.


	4. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Din make it home to Luke; the three of them talk and make some promises.

Skywalker and Grogu notice him immediately when he steps off the ship. He sees Skywalker straighten up and smooth his hair down. Grogu seems to struggle a bit in Skywalker’s arms, so he puts the kid down facing Din. Grogu moves as quick as his little legs will let him towards Din. Din meets him halfway, picking the kid up and cradling him in his arms. He looks the same, Din thinks, weirdly relieved. He knows how slowly the kid ages, apparently, but he worried all the same that he’d miss a growth spurt or a big milestone, like—

“Dada!” the child babbles at him, hands reaching for his helmet.

All thoughts leave Din’s head in that moment, replaying the word over and over again. _Dada, dada, dada_. 

He looks up at Luke, who is coming to stand in front of him, a cautious smile on his face. 

“He missed you,” Luke says. 

“I did too,” Din says, choked up slightly. “I missed you _both_ ,” he emphasizes. Looking down at his son’s little face, he rubs the top of his head, and says, “I’m sorry it took me so long, kid.” 

He takes stock of Luke, his hair darker than he remembered, and slightly longer, poofing up around the edges. He looks _tired,_ too, weary of the world. 

“Are you okay?” Din asks him.

The question apparently takes Luke by surprise, but he flashes a tired smile at him anyway. “I will be. I missed you too, you asshole,” he says, and Din can’t help but laugh at him. “I had another friend go missing too, recently. I’ve just been _worried_.” He stops to look at Grogu who is content in Din’s arms, softly touching his ear, apparently to distract himself. “What happened to _you_?” he asks, taking in the cautious way he was walking and the singed armor, flight suit covered in holes, exposing skin. 

“It’s a long story,” Din says, still feeling wrung out from his encounter with the explosive droid earlier. “I took a bounty,” he tells Luke. “We got hit by pirates when on the trip back and crash landed on a tropical island nearby.” He resists the urge to look back at the ship they absconded with. “The Falcon is half buried in sand,” he says remorsefully.

“We’ll have to go pull it out after you get some rest,” Luke says, a smile playing on his lips. “Otherwise Han will _kill_ me,” he mutters under his breath. “Assuming hasn’t been murdered by the Hutts by now.”

Din’s heart clenches at the mention of Han. _This is really happening_. 

“Actually,” he says, “ _Luke—_ ”

Before he can get anything out, Luke looks over Din’s shoulder towards the ship, face morphing from concern, to confusion, then pure shock, and Din relates, honestly. It’s also very cute, Din notices, watching the way Luke’s brow furrows, blue eyes narrowing. 

“Han?” Luke all but yells, eyes focused on the figure making its way towards them. 

No turning back now, Din thinks, and rotates on one heel to look at the ship, holding Grogu so he can see Han walking towards them as well. 

Han had taken the time to clean up, his shirt wrinkle free and hair apparently combed, his face clean shaven. He’ll miss the beard a little bit, but he does have to admit this fits Han better.

Din notes that Han let him come out here, armor singed, looking like he just climbed out of a sarlacc pit, just so he could clean up and look good for his ex for his dramatic entrance. Irrational fondness springs up in his chest. _Asshole_.

“Luke Skywalker,” Han says, arms wide open, a deliberately charming smile on his face. “Bet you never thought I’d find out you lent my ship to your Mando boyfriend,” he says. 

“Oh my god,” Din says under his breath, blush rising on his cheeks. “This is going to be interesting,” he says just for Grogu’s ears.

Din has to admit that the surprise coursing through Luke’s face is hilarious. He’s fully gaping, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, looking between him and Din. 

“Wait,” he says, clearly trying to figure out what the fuck is going on here. “So, you… _what_?”

“Did you know I have a 20,000 credit bounty on my head?” Han supplies instead of an answer. “Crazy, right?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says faintly. “Leia told me. Chewie’s been out looking for you for _weeks_. So,” Luke looks at Din, “he was…”

Din nods. “He was my bounty.”

“And you…” he continues, trailing off, eyeing Han. 

“Crash landed the Falcon and got trapped on a shitty island planet for two months? Yep,” Han answers. “At least I had better luck at winning this Mando over than the last one,” he adds on, winking at Din.

Din is going to strangle this mudscuffer if he doesn’t die of embarrassment first. 

“I destroyed the bounty puck,” Din says instead and looks at Luke. “He _saved_ me. More than once. I wasn’t— I couldn’t turn him in. So we decided to come here. We didn’t realize,” he says, struggling to find the right words, “we had you in common until we landed. Here.” 

Luke has moved on from shock to the hysterical phase, hiding a smile behind his gloved hand. 

“I was so worried,” he says, “about you both.” 

Then, in a surprise move, he throws both of his arms around them, holding them close. Din cradles Grogu between the three of them but leans into the hug, resting his head on Luke’s shoulder and quickly wrapping his other arm around Han’s waist, just to remind himself that they're here, that it's _real_. Han shifts as well, one hand grasping Din around the shoulders, the other moving to the back of Luke’s head. 

Din sees Luke’s eyes trail over the way Han and Din’s hands touch as they pull apart, though he doesn’t say anything, just ponders them quietly.

Din looks at Han to catch him considering Grogu with confusion. Grogu is peering back at him, head tilting and babbling softly. 

“So, uh,” Han says, cautiously taking a step forward. “Wanna introduce me?”

Din smiles from behind his helmet, trying to push down the anxiety threatening to ruin a nice moment. “This is Grogu,” Din says. “My son.”

Grogu looks up at Din at his name, pure and happy, and says, “Dada!” so sweetly that it brings tears to his eyes. Dank ferrik. 

“He, uh, learned that while I was away,” Din says, trying and failing to hide the emotions in his voice. “I’ll have to teach him some Mando’a now.”

Han is still looking at Grogu, analyzing, reaching out trepidatiously to touch the edge of his ear. 

“I think I would’a noticed if you had those ears,” Han says, making Din laugh quietly. He notices Luke whip his head to look between them again. 

“He was a foundling,” Din tells him, softly touching Grogu’s other ear. “He was my bounty, too, at first. Then he saved me, from a mudhorn, and I rescued him from the Empire, and we became a clan of two.”

They stand there for a moment like that, softly petting the kid. Grogu just smiles between them, loving the affection. 

“Well,” Han says, pulling his hand back and clearing his throat. Din wonders if he made the connection between the two of their stories. Not the same, but... rhyming, in a way. “He’s very cute.” 

“Yes,” Din agrees. “He means everything to me.”

“So how’d the two of you end up here?” Han asks, looking at Luke.

Luke glances at Din, making eye contact through the visor somehow. Din tilts his head, gesturing for Luke to tell the story. 

“Grogu is strong with the Force,” Luke says. Han’s eyebrows raise.

“This little guy is a Jedi?” Han asks, surprised.

Luke smiles at him. “Not yet,” he says. “I am training him to use the Force. Once he is ready, Grogu will be able to choose his own path.” Luke continues the story: “The Mandalorian had been tasked to return Grogu to a Jedi for training, and the child called to me from the Seeing Stone, requesting help.” 

Grogu babbles at Luke, who blushes. _Interesting_. He clears his throat. “I found them and brought Grogu here.” 

Din couldn’t help but add in, “He saved me and my allies. Took down a whole squadron of Dark Troopers like they were nothing. It was…” he pauses, “ _i_ _mpressive_.” 

“Yeah,” Han says, grinning knowingly. “I bet it was _impressive_.” 

Ears burning, Din doesn’t say anything lest he give Han any more ammo.

Suddenly, Din is hit by another wave of exhaustion, swaying on his feet slightly. Both Han and Luke notice, moving to flank him and hold him upright. 

“Whoa,” Luke says at the same time Han says, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Din breathes, closing his eyes briefly. “I just need to rest. A nap,” he says, “and a _shower_.” 

“You do need a shower,” Han agrees, and Din would call him annoying if he had the capacity.

“Your home is still available to you,” Luke tells him, hand gently gripping his upper arm. Din’s breath is taken away by the sudden closeness, the warmth of his hand, and the bright blue of his eyes looking up at him. “Go,” he says, “take Grogu with you and get some rest.”

Din nods and steps back. Han moves to follow him, but Din stops him with a hand. “No,” he tells Han. “I think you two should take some time to talk. I won’t be good company anyway, and...“ he struggles here, not wanting this to come out the wrong way. “I need some privacy. Just for a little bit.” He squeezes Han’s elbow quickly, hopefully to communicate that he doesn’t mean it with malice. 

Han looks at Luke, who is peering at them wide-eyed, and sighs. “Okay, hot shot. We’ll talk. I’ll see you later, okay?” Han reaches out to touch Grogu’s head, rubbing him with a thumb like a good luck charm, then turns to face Luke. 

“Where can a guy go to get some good grub around here?” he says, walking away from Din. 

The two of them are suddenly anxious; Din can see it in their body language, stiff and unsure how to act around each other, but Luke gestures to the mess hall regardless. Both of them glance back at Din before walking away.

“Wanna go take a nap, Grogu?” Din says, cuddling the kid closer. 

The child smiles up at him, still happy to hear his dad use his name, and says, “Dada!”

Din smiles at him and hugs him to his chest.

“Yes,” he says, and they head home.

* * *

* * *

The house is seemingly unchanged from the last time he was here; a humble abode, perfect for Din’s basic needs. He has a living space with a couch and small kitchenette, with a door leading into a bedroom with a small bed, a crib for the kid, and an attached refresher. They’re lucky to have running water here, and Din has never been more excited at the thought of a shower, except possibly after he was swallowed by the Krayt Dragon. 

He takes Grogu into the bedroom and sits on the bed with him, reaching up to take his helmet off once they’re situated.

“Dada!” Grogu says wildly, waving his hands at Din’s face. Din picks the kid back up to bring him closer to his face, their eyes tracing over each other. Grogu is patting his face, considering the beard and longer hair. 

“You like it?” he asks, though he knows not to expect an answer. 

True to form, Grogu just babbles incoherently at him, pawing at his face adorably. The feeling still makes his breath hitch, full of love. 

“I agree,” he says, “I’m going to shave it down. Gotta cut my hair too.”

He leaves the kid on the bed, giving him a toy to play with while he starts to divest himself of his armor, putting it neatly away in the small closet. 

“You wanna come shower with me, you little womp rat?” he asks Grogu. 

The kid just says, “Ba!” which Din believes is an assent. 

He picks up the kid and takes him into the bathroom. “All right, buddy, let’s get clean.”

* * *

The shower is _amazing_ , the hot water soothing the scrapes and bruises from the previous day’s action as he wipes off the sweat, blood, and sand from his body. After shaving down to his preferred level of facial hair and trimming some of the hair on the top of his head, he and Grogu emerge warm and squeaky clean, and he gets them both dressed in comfy sleeping clothes. 

“Nap time,” Din says to Grogu, who reaches up and grabs his nose. Din smiles at his son so hard he feels like his face is going to fall off. He missed this, the easy companionship that comes with their clan of two. 

They settle into bed, and Din sets the alarm to wake them in two sleep cycles. 

“I think you’ll like Han,” he tells Grogu, who’s starting to get drowsy. “He’ll probably do anything to get on your good side. I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t give you too many cookies.” 

“Dada,” Grogu mumbles, drifting away.

“I missed you too, kid,” Din says and follows him in sleep.

* * *

  
  


Din rouses with the alarm, feeling warm and cozy with Grogu snuggled up against his side. He knows he’s so incredibly lucky to be back here with him. He and Han could have easily stayed stranded on that island for months and months, though Din gets the impression that Luke and his sister wouldn’t let that happen to Han. 

“Kid,” he says, resting his hand on the child’s head. The kid just mumbles and snuggles closer to Din. “Grogu,” he says, which gets his attention, his eyes popping open to gaze up at him. “It’s time to get up. We need to get some food.”

The kid perks up at that, eyes bright, and Din laughs at him. 

“Some things never change,” he says, though he knows it’s not true, nor is change a bad thing.

* * *

After devouring five bowls of stew between the two of them in a private side room attached to the mess hall, he decides he probably needs to track down Han and Luke to make sure they didn’t end up murdering each other during their conversation. 

He picks up the kid and they head outside. After wandering around for a few minutes, trying to regain his bearings after being away, he encounters a gaggle of playing kids, doing battle with fake swords. They stop and stand straight up when they see him, wide eyed. 

“Hi, Mister Mandalorian!” they call at him.

“Hey, kids,” Din says. “Do you know where Master Skywalker is?”

“He’s with Mister Han!” one of them says.

“Yeah,” another pipes up, “they went into Master Skywalker’s house!”

Din chuckles to himself, feeling foolish for thinking the two of them would come to blows when this is _much_ more realistic based on what he knows about Han as a person.

“Can Grogu play with us?” one of the older kids asks.

Din sighs, not wanting to part with the kid yet. He probably should, though, given that he doesn’t know what he’s about to walk into.

“You wanna stay, kid?” he asks Grogu. Grogu looks at him, big eyed, and starts to wriggle in a clear yes. “Alright,” Din says, touching his forehead to the kid’s quickly. “Have fun,” he says, after he puts him down.

It takes a few moments before he remembers where Skywalker’s house is, just a short walk from where he found the kids playing. 

He steels himself before knocking, a soft, “Come in,” coming shortly after.

He’s not sure what exactly he expected, brawling or kissing most likely, but it certainly wasn’t Han and Luke on the couch, Luke dozing softly, [cuddled up in Han’s arms](https://kowroo.tumblr.com/post/190796277350/i-swear-ill-chill-with-the-star-wars-stuff-after). 

Din feels pure, unbridled affection swell up in his chest at the sight. Han looks a little bleary eyed too, as if Din had just woken up, but he smiles at Din softly and sits up slightly. Luke shifts slightly with the movement but keeps sleeping. 

“Hey there,” Han says, a smile reaching his eyes. 

“This is… not what I was expecting,” Din says in greeting. 

He knows Han can’t see his smile but hopes he can still tell it’s there. 

Han laughs slightly. “What, you thought we’d be fighting hand to hand in the mess hall?”

Din chuckles. “Something like that.” He grabs a chair, moving it so he can sit in front of the pair. 

“Nah,” Han says. “We’ve had our problems, but,” he pauses, holding Luke tighter, “we’ve been through too much together. We’ll always love each other, one way or another.” 

Insecurity threatens to bubble up in Din’s consciousness as he realizes that he only knows a small bit about both of these men compared to how well they know each other, but he pushes it down. 

“I’d like to hear about it,” he says, “sometime.”

“Maybe once flyboy here wakes up,” Han says, 

“You come up with nicknames for everyone?” Din asks playfully.

“Only the people I love, hot shot.” Han says, apparently still feeling emotional from the day’s events. 

Din doesn’t know what to say to that. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who needed a rest,” he says instead.

“Heh, well. I think we both gave him a fright,” Han says. “He would’ve jumped in that X-Wing to find you if he wasn’t the only one here to watch the munchkins.”

“I don’t know about that,” Din says.

“I do. It’s the exact kind of hare brained thing he’d do for someone he cares about,” Han says, chucklinga bit.

“‘m right _here_ ,” Luke says suddenly, eyes still closed.

Han gasps in mock outrage. “Well good morning, sunshine,” he says to the top of Luke’s head. “Guess you’re just keeping my arm hostage for the fun of it, huh?” 

“You’re so annoying,” Luke grumbles, finally opening his eyes to extract himself from Han. 

That elicits a real laugh out of both Din and Han and two them grin at each other. “You don’t seem annoyed,” Han says, his eyes on Din, and winks at him. 

Luke has an adorable frown on his face as he stretches, runs a hand through his hair, and tries to smooth it down. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” he says very seriously, still foggy from the nap. 

“That’s all right, flyboy,” Han says, raising a hand to muss Luke’s hair up again. “We’re just glad to be here.” 

“Where’s Grogu?” Luke asks once he’s fully upright, left leg on the couch tucked under his right thigh. 

“He wanted to go play with the other kids,” Din tells him. “I wanted to be able to intervene if I needed to,” he says ruefully. “Thankfully my fears were unfounded.” 

Luke cracks a grin at him, eyes flashing bright with humor. 

“What is he, anyway?” Han asks. “I wanted to ask earlier but didn’t want to offend the kid.” 

Well that’s adorable. Din laughs slightly. “He’s heard worse, and I have no clue. Never seen anybody else like him.”

“He’s a baby Yoda,” Luke says, brain still catching up from the nap.

“A baby _what_?” Han asks before Din can. 

Luke shakes his head to clear the sleep out of his head, and Din loves the way his dark blonde hair flies around, still looking too cute even mussed from sleep and Han’s hand. 

“My Master,” Luke explains. “Yoda. I was his padawan. He trained me so I could confront Vader and take down Palpatine.”

“Your Master Yoda was a little green gremlin?” Han looks very confused. “Was he… Grogu’s _father_?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Luke laughs. “He was over 900 years old when he died. I can’t imagine him… _procreating._ ” Luke looks disturbed at the thought. “He passed shortly after finishing training. He was,” Luke said, a smile playing on his lips, “a very _chaotic_ old man. I can see some similarities, but I don’t know how much of it is just based on their species.”

“I think the Empire was trying to… clone him, or something,” Din says. “They kept talking about his _blood_.”

“Creepy,” Han adds helpfully. 

“That’s an understatement,” Luke says dryly.

They sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of recent events and complicated histories settling around them like fog. 

“So,” Din decides to cut through. “Did you two… talk?”

Really, he wants to ask, _are you okay_? _Where do you stand_? _Where do_ we _stand_? 

“We talked,” Luke allows. “Han told me about you getting stranded together, that you became… friends. That you saved him from bounty hunters even though they would have given you passage off planet. He told me how you acted as a shield against an explosion.” Luke frowns at him, disappointingly. “You aren’t unbreakable, you know,” he chides.

“I did what I had to,” Din says simply, looking away. 

“I sense there’s more,” Luke says gently. “Am I right?”

Din realizes that Han had been leaving it up to him, letting him control how to broach the situation with Luke. 

Din sighs deeply, in and out. The moment of truth. “Yes,” he says simply. “We…” he looks at Han, “we fell in love. It was,” he pauses again, “ _unexpected_.”

“Oh,” Luke says, blinking and taking it in. He suddenly looks uncomfortable. Clearly he had known something happened between them but must have assumed it was a casual fling. “Then this must look really awkward,” he chuckles and begins to move away from Han.

“No,” Din and Han say together, both moving slightly towards Luke, who blinks.

“O….kay…” Luke draws the word out, unsure, but stays where he is. 

Even despite the helmet, Din wants to hide his face behind his hands. Kriff, they messed this up already.

Thankfully, Han saves him from stumbling any more; he always did have a better way with words. Hopefully he won’t embarrass Din too much, Din practically pleads mentally.

“I can’t speak for Din,” he starts, throat working around some undefined emotion, “but I meant everything I said over dinner. I love you, Luke, _always_ , and I want to try again. With _both of you_.” He looks at Din adoringly. 

“I want to see the kid grow,” Han says, on a roll, “maybe teach him how to pilot the Falcon one day. I can’t promise I won’t, won’t freak out again, but I... I want you to know everything about me, and I want to know everything about you.” He’s pleading now, his sincerity making Din’s heart sing. “Please know that I will always love both of you, and you’ll be with me no matter how far apart the galaxy takes us. And I will _always_ come back to you.”

_Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde._

The Mandalorian marriage rites.

_We are one together. We are one when parted. We share all. We will raise warriors._

Din stops breathing momentarily, making the connection. Does Han know? When would he even have had time to do that kind of _research_?

Luke seems to be stunned as well, words not within his grasp. He looks at Din. “And you…?” 

Din breathes in around the emotions swirling in his chest, undefinable and too big for his heart. “I want to try too,” he confirms, not prone to speeches like Han is. “We have a lot to figure out, but we could be happy together. Don’t you think?” 

Luke is suddenly blinking tears out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “I do.”

There isn’t a dry eye between them at this point, and Din wants desperately to be a part of the scene on the couch, Han’s arm slung over Luke’s shoulders, their fingers tangling together. He stands up awkwardly, suddenly feeling too bulky, his armor no longer protecting him but isolating him.

“Get over here, Din,” Han says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I can practically hear your thoughts bouncing around that shiny helmet of yours. Come hold me, I want to be the Solo filling of a Jedi/Mandalorian sandwich.”

Luke looks up at Han, befuddled amusement on his face, and says, “What are you even _talking about_.”

“You’re so stupid, Han,” Din says, but he moves to sit alongside Han all the same. He’s way out of his comfort zone here, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. Han seems to sense it because he takes action, draping a blanket over the beskar on Din’s chest and pulling Din’s arm over his shoulders. He settles his shoulder against Din’s chest and everything slots into place, with Luke against Han’s side, legs curled under himself, knees touching thighs.

“So,” Din gets out. “Will you tell me about how you saved the galaxy?”

Luke perks up at that, sitting up straighter. “Well,” he starts, “you know the Death Star?” 

Din lets Han and Luke’s voices wash over him as they tell the story, arguing and trading quips the whole time. At one point, Din’s hand finds itself playing with Luke’s hair, peering over Han to catch his reaction. He looks surprised at first, leaning over to meet his gaze, then Luke smiles at Din so, so brightly and melts into the contact. 

They continue talking, Din playing with Luke’s hair all the while, until they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Before Din can move, Han is extracting him from their embrace to answer the door, leaving Din and Luke alone on the couch, one of Din’s gloved hands in his hair. Din blinks and stills his hand, shocked by Han’s sudden absence. 

“Hi,” Luke says, shifting to a more comfortable position, facing Din, with one leg hanging off the edge of the couch and the other curled under him. The shift leaves Din’s hand basically on the side of Luke’s face, and he presses into Luke’s jaw briefly before pulling back.

“Hey,” he parrots. 

Their attention is drawn to the door, where a gaggle of children are gathered. 

“Grogu wanted to come home,” they’re telling Han. 

“Thanks, kiddos,” he’s saying. “You should run along home too, it’s getting late.”

He closes the door and turns back around with the kid, who’s looking sleepy. 

“I can go put the kid down, give you two a chance to talk,” Han says. “Is there somewhere for him to sleep here?”

“Yeah,” Luke says, and Din looks at him surprised. There wasn’t the last time he was in Luke’s home. “There’s a crib in my room.”

Din feels like he’d be completely melted if his armor weren’t holding him up at this point.

“Do you… need any help?” he asks Han, amused at the way he’s holding Grogu, clearly not used to handling children

“No way,” Han says, too quickly. “I’m sure we will figure it out.” He’s talking to Grogu now. “How hard can it be?” He heads back to Luke’s room 

Din and Luke look at each other knowingly, amused. “We may have to go rescue him,” Luke says.

“Which one?” is Din’s response, which gets a gorgeous laugh out of Luke.

Suddenly, Han is back, popping his head out of the door. “Does he use diapers, or…?” but cuts himself off before they can even respond, taking in the body language of the men on the couch. “Nevermind, I’ll figure it out. You two talk, please!”

The two of them chuckle together, affection and exhaustion sweeping over Luke’s face.

“This is going to be…” Luke trails off

“Interesting? Chaotic?” Din supplies.

“To say the least.”

“How are you… feeling?” Din asks cautiously. “About all of this?”

“You can’t begin to know how happy I am,” Luke says, “that the two of you are safe and here, with me.” He breathes deeply. “But it’s… a lot to process.” 

Din nods in agreement. 

“I meant what I said, though. I want to try.”

“How do you want this to work?” Din asks, gesturing between the two of them.

“I have a lot to work out with Han,” Luke sighs. “And it’s strange seeing how close you two are. I don’t know if you felt the same,” he continues, “but I was falling for you before you left, and now you two know each other better than I know either of you.”

Din frowns. “I don’t think that’s true,” Din says. “You two have known each other for a long time. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.”

Luke shakes his head. “That’s just history,” he says. “Han has changed since we saw each other last. A _lot_. I think you know him better than anybody right now,” he says, which surprises Din. “Well, except maybe Chewie.” 

Din tilts his head. He recognizes the name from some offhand comments, but it’s exactly sure how he fits in. _Another_ ex? 

“His first mate,” Luke clarifies. “A Wookie.” Well, probably not another ex, then. Though given Han… “He was visiting his family when you found Han,” Luke explains, then smiles at him. “I don’t think you would’ve been able to take him into custody if they had been together.”

“Maybe,” Din says. He’s pretty confident in his abilities to take any quarry into custody, but he’s never gone up against a Wookie before.

“It’s still amazing to me,” Luke says, “that he was your bounty at all, let alone what happened after. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, given Han’s habit of getting himself into trouble, but.” He laughs at himself. “It’s like the Force is playing a joke on all of us.” 

“It’s a small galaxy,” Din agrees. 

“I’m just glad it was you,” says Luke, looking solemnly at Din. 

“I almost killed him,” Din says, frowning. “Or sold him off to people who would have killed him.” 

“But you didn’t,” Luke says simply, tilting his head and smiling. “You decided to love him instead.” 

“Yes,” Din agrees. “I do love him. Even though he _is_ annoying.”

Luke laughs at that. “He’s annoyingly lovable."

“I…” Din starts, not sure how or if he should tell Luke his plans. He deserves to know, ultimately, so Din continues, dropping his voice so Han can’t overhear. “You should know. I’m planning to ask Han if he wants to exchange Mandalorian marriage rites with me.” Luke blinks at him, surprised. “It’s not as… formal as Basic weddings, but it would mean he would be a part of my clan, and a father to Grogu. And he could see my face. See _me_.” Insecurity wells up in Din’s chest. “I don’t know if he’ll accept.”

Luke hums, considering. “He might not. He has a history of commitment issues, to put it mildly.” His face turns mischievous, looking up at Din through his eyelashes. Din’s breath is taken away by the blue of his eyes. “There’s some good incentive there, though.” 

That gets a laugh out of Din, who can’t help but reach over to lace their fingers together.

“Is that what you want?” Luke asks him, suddenly serious. “With me?” he clarifies.

Din shakes his head. “No,” he says, and he can’t tell if Luke looks relieved or disappointed. Maybe both. “Not yet, at least. You were right, earlier. I did have feelings for you before I left. And now. But we need to take this chance to grow closer. We don’t need to rush into anything.” 

That makes Luke smile, his eyes crinkling up. “I agree,” he says, and Din is relieved. “We should take it slow.” 

“So,” Din ponders, trying to find the right words, “a… courtship, then?” 

Luke laughs in his face, then laughs harder at Din’s indignation.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says. “You just keep surprising me. Yes, we can _court_. Or maybe even date, as the kids put it,” he says, teasing. 

A grin overtakes Din’s face, a force outside of his control. “I can’t wait,” he says, letting his thumb run over Luke’s palm. 

“Should we go check on them?” Luke asks, nodding to the bedroom door.

“It _is_ suspiciously quiet,” Din says. 

Luke stands, then, stretching slightly, and holds his gloved hand out to Din. He takes it, enjoying the feel of the hard metal underneath the layers of gloves and prosthetic skin, and stands as well. They keep holding hands as they walk to the door, peering in.

Luke lifts his other hand to cover a laugh as they take in the sight in front of them. Han and Grogu are asleep on the bed, not touching but lying on their backs next to each other. It looks like Han tried and failed to swaddle him, a blanket wrapped gently around his little body, and there are toys _everywhere._

“Looks like Grogu got a little overexcited,” Luke says softly with a smile. 

“What have we _done_ ,” says Din, horrified.

“Wait a minute,” Luke says, sadly disengaging his hand from Din’s. He steps around the toys to a chest of drawers, rummaging until he emerges victorious with a cam. “Han is gonna kill me for this,” he says, stepping back to get a good angle and snaps the picture.

Luke flicks a button and the image glows in front of them. Han, sleeping softly, his right arm folded across his chest, the other splayed out next to him. His brown hair looks soft, messed up on the comforter, and his face looks peaceful. Grogu, next to him, is mirroring his position, his mouth slightly open showing off his tiny teeth. 

“How can I get a copy of that?” Din asks, not choked up in the slightest. 

Luke just hits a few more buttons on the cam. “There,” he says. “You have a holo projector in your home. The holo should be there when you get back. You also have a cam in your home, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Din says, watching the holo as it blinks away. “You really like these things, huh?” 

Luke shrugs and smiles sheepishly at him. “The Empire destroyed a lot of the old Jedi texts. I’ve been trying to rebuild them, but I also like the idea of using cams to document our history moving forward.”

“This isn’t exactly ‘documenting history,’” Din teases.

“It’s documenting _our_ history, Din,” Luke says sincerely. 

“I like that,” Din says roughly, then looks around the room to distract himself from the emotions threatening to burst through his chest. “Guess we better clean this up.”

“No need,” Luke says, eyes twinkling. “I got this.” With a wave of his hand, the toys float into the air, and another wave sends them into the toy basket in the corner of the room.

Din isn’t exactly sure if he should find that as attractive as he does.

“Where did you even get those?” Din asks him. “Why are there so _many_?”

“Grogu asked for them,” Luke mumbles. 

That draws a chuckle out of Din. “And here I thought Han was going to spoil him.”

“I’m pretty sure we all spoil him,” says Luke.

Din would never admit to spoiling the kid out loud, so he says nothing. 

“Does he have a room?” Din asks, gesturing to Han passed out on the bed, snoring slightly.

“No,” Luke says, shaking his head. “We can get one set up, but it’s too late for tonight.”

Din nods. “He can stay with me. If… that’s okay,” he says, not sure if they want to take the night to reconnect.

“That works,” Luke says. He smiles at Din, warmly, and puts his hand at the junction between beskar on his arm. “I need some time to reflect. I’ll probably just meditate and journal until bed. You two should be together tonight.”

“Okay,” Din agrees, then hesitates. “I’ll need a bigger bed, eventually,” he says, thinking back to the too-small bed currently in his room. He knows they’ll fit on it from experience, but they’d both surely appreciate the breathing room... not to mention the possibility of Luke joining them in the future. 

“That can be arranged,” Luke says, laughing.

The sound seems to wake Han, who opens his eyes to look at Grogu, then up at Luke and Din watching them. 

“I’m up,” he says, sitting up in bed. His hair is a disaster, sticking up every which way, and he yawns loudly, covering his face with his hand. 

“C’mon,” Din says to Han. “You’re staying with me tonight. Looks like you need some rest too, grandpa.” 

“I don’t get a choice in the matter?” Han grumbles. “Wait, _grandpa_?”

Din moves forward to gently scoop up the sleeping child, cradling him in his arms. 

“Nope,” he says to Han. “Time to go.”

They say their goodbyes to Luke at the door. Han scoops him up into a big bear hug, lifting him off the floor slightly, then ruffles his hair. 

“It’s good to see you, junior.” 

Luke is blushing furiously, hands moving to smooth his hair back down. “You too, Han.” 

Din isn’t sure what to do, not really one to initiate hugs, but Luke takes action before he can, swooping in to hug him and press a firm kiss to the side of his helmet, then drops a kiss to Grogu’s forehead. 

“Goodnight, you three,” he says, smiling at them warmly, a yawn creeping in.

“Good night, Luke,” Din says, and they turn around to take their leave. 

Soon after the door closes, Han moves to grip Din’s upper arm, leaning against him as they walk. “Your armor is really uncomfortable,” he complains, but doesn’t move, head resting on Din’s pauldron, other hand tangling with his. 

“You don’t seem uncomfortable,” he says gently, getting a tired chuckle out of Han, and they walk home together in comfortable silence. 

* * *

Han hops into the shower as soon as they get back, and Din puts Grogu to bed, leaving the crib in the living room to let him sleep uninterrupted. 

The kid wakes up slightly as Din is getting him ready, changing his cloth diaper and wiping him down.

“Hey, kid,” Din says softly, rubbing soothing circles on his head.

“Dada,” Grogu mumbles sleepily. 

“That’s me,” Din says. “Your _buir_.” 

“Brrr,” the child says, which is close enough that it makes Din’s heart clench.

“That’s right,” Din says, swaddling him gently. “You might have two dadas, two _buire_ soon, if Han says yes. Hopefully three eventually, if it works out with Luke. Would you like that?” 

The kid just yawns and blinks slowly, babbling softly at him. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Din says, then lifts his helmet slightly so he can place a kiss on Grogu’s forehead. “Love you, Grogu.”

“Dada,” he says, then falls into sleep.

Din lays him down gently into the crib, fingers touching the mythosaur charm for luck.

* * *

Han walks in as he’s halfway finished taking off his armor, chest and arms protected only by the rough fabric of his flight suit. Han looks better with the grime of their adventure gone, hair wet, face pink from the warm water. 

He’s wearing nothing except the towel slung low around his waist, and Din realizes that Han doesn’t exactly have any of his personal effects here, including clothing. Din desperately wants to touch him everywhere, the expanse of skin across his shoulders littered with freckles, the hair covering his chest leading down to his groin. 

Han leans against the door of the refresher, watching Din remove his armor. 

“We’ll need to go back,” Din says, ignoring the way his heart is suddenly beating faster. “Pull the Falcon out of the sand and collect everything we left behind.”

“That’s a problem for tomorrow us,” Han says, pushing himself up and walking towards Din. “Can I help you get these off, hot shot?”

“Sure,” Din says, much more casually than he feels. 

Han kneels on the ground in front of him, the sight making Din’s mouth go dry. Han starts with his boots: the right, then the left, moving up his calf and then to the armor covering his thighs. While Han is working, Din picks up his pauldron, the one with the mudhorn signet, and rubs at the metal idly with his bare thumb, thinking about family. 

“Did I ever tell you the story? About what this means?” Din asks Han once the armor is off, dressed down to his undershirt and athletic pants, holding the pauldron out for the ex-smuggler to take. 

Han takes it and stands, moving to sit next to Din on the bed. 

“Sort of,” Han says. “This the mudhorn?”

“Yes,” Din affirms. “I was tasked with collecting the kid as a bounty to bring him back to the Empire. On the trip back to my ship, a squad of Jawas decided to scavenge my ship for parts, leaving it broken and unusable.” 

Han moves his hand up to the back of Din’s neck, the contact a comfort. 

“The only way they would return my things was if I collected an egg for them. The egg of a mudhorn. The mudhorn was a fierce opponent. I was losing the fight,” he admits, “ _badly_. I was ready for it to be my final battle. I had accepted a warrior’s death.” 

Han grips the back of his neck tighter but lets him continue. 

“Just when it was about to make the final blow, it stopped, floating in the air. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I looked over and saw the kid holding his hand up, like he was physically holding the mudhorn back. I know what it meant now, but it was like magic to me at that point. He saved my life and helped me reclaim my ship.”

“I can’t believe you almost turned the kid over to the Empire,” Han says, keeping his hand on Din.

“I did,” Din confesses. “I _did_. For honor, for duty, because they were offering beskar they got from slaughtering Mandalorians up as a reward. For selfish reasons that I believed were just. It was the worst sin of my entire life.”

“Even worse than showing your face?” Han asks. 

“Infinitely worse.” Din breathes deeply, reaching out to touch Han’s knee softly. “I hated myself. Knew I didn’t deserve this armor when I had given up a foundling. I went and rescued him the next day. My covert sacrificed everything to help me save him.” 

Han puts his hand on Din’s, and Din squeezes, remembering the pile of empty Mandalorian armor, the haunting emptiness of the covert. 

“Soon after, I was given this signet,” he says, gesturing towards the mudhorn. “I was a _father_. That’s when Grogu and I became a clan of two. Clan Mudhorn.” 

Din closes his eyes and squeezes Han’s hand. Suddenly, he knows where he’s going with the story.

“Do you,” he starts, then pauses to lick his lips, suddenly nervous. “Are you familiar with Mandalorian marriage rites?”

Han pulls his hand back to his lap, leaving Din’s neck cold. “Can’t say I am,” he says, chuckling nervously.

“I was… surprised,” Din says, taking Han’s hand in both of his, “by your speech earlier. It was so close to the Mandalorian marriage rites that I almost thought you had to know, if I didn’t know you better.” 

He takes a breath. 

“It goes, _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde_.” Han is staring at him wide-eyed. “In Basic, that translates to: We are one together. We are one when parted. We share all. We will raise warriors.” 

“Maybe I was meant to be a Mandalorian,” Han jokes, but it falls a little flat due to the emotion flickering on his face. Fear, and insecurity, and want. 

“Han,” he says, turning so they’re fully facing each other. “I want _you_ to be a part of Clan Mudhorn. I want to raise Grogu with you, to protect each other and love each other from across the stars. Do you want that?”

“Isn’t it a little fast?” Han asks, voice getting higher with hysterics.

“Maybe,” Din allows, a slight smile crossing his face. “But we’ve been living together and protecting each other ever since we fell. This is just an extension of that.” 

“Well, what— what about Luke?” Han asks.

“Luke knows I was planning to ask you,” Din says simply, which stuns Han into silence. “He and I are taking it slow,” he tells Han. “Dating, for now.” He doesn't say _courting_ out of fear that Han would ruin the moment by laughing at him like Luke did. “Our relationship got derailed a bit the past few months, but we care about each other. It’s okay for us to go at different paces. It would be more harmful to rush things... or wait. And,” Din says, “I _love you_. I want you to be a part of my family.”

“You know that I have commitment issues,” Han says, not exactly a question, not exactly a statement.

“That’s what Luke said,” Din confirms with a smile. “And I had gleaned as much. But I know you love me, and,” he huffs, “you practically already made the promises that I’m asking of you earlier.” 

He moves his hand to cup Han’s jaw, bringing their foreheads together. “I don’t care if you run, as long as you tell me where you’re going, and come back to us.” He pauses for a second, fingers idly playing with Han’s hair. “And tell me if you plan on sleeping with anyone.” 

Han laughs at that, happiness bubbling up through the shock and fear. “I’m planning on sleeping with Luke,” he says immediately. Din returns the laugh, because that much was obvious, and moves his fingers to hold onto the back of Han’s head, fingers tanging in his hair. “And probably Lando,” Han says quickly, eyes darting away.

“Who’s Lando?!”

“My ex,” Han says. “Well, more like ex-friends with benefits. It’s complicated.” 

Din huffs. “Okay.”

Han pulls back suddenly, realization dawning on his face. “Does this mean I get to see you?” His eyes are bright, clearly excited by the idea. 

“If you say yes,” Din says cautiously. “I want you to see me. And,” he pauses, “I want to see you. Your _eyes_. Unguarded.” He brings a thumb to gently touch the wrinkles by Han’s eye. 

“Yes,” Han breathes, looking surprised at himself. “Din. Yes. I love you. I want this. With you. And Luke, when we can get our shit together.” He reaches forward to wrap himself around Din’s shoulders. “So how does this work?” he asks. “Are we having a white wedding, or…?” 

“No,” Din laughs, hugging back fiercely then pulling back, their hands touching mindlessly. “This isn’t a, a wedding, exactly. Not like you’re used to. There’s no pomp and circumstance, no ceremony— unless you want.” Din really doesn’t want to wait, but he will if Han asks. 

“Hell no,” Han says. 

“Good,” Din says with a smile. “Then it’s just us, here, now, making a promise to each other. Are you ready?” 

Han leans back to grab his hands, and Din notices that there are tears in his eyes. 

“I’m ready,” Han says. 

“Repeat after me,” Din says to Han. Before he can continue, Han interrupts him.

“Wait! I need to put on a shirt! And _pants_!” He’s getting up and rummaging through Din’s closet, pulling out a black tank top and sweatpants, quickly throwing them on. Din can’t help but sneak a peek at his ass as he’s bending over, his cock between his legs.

“Okay,” Han says, settling back on the bed. “I’m ready.”

“Your shirt is on backwards,” Din says dryly, nodding to the tag showing under his chin. “And inside out.”

“Kriffing— shirt,” Han says, struggling to right it. 

“Repeat after me,” Din says again once he’s settled, loving the way his hair is sticking up, but reaching up to smooth it down anyway. 

“ _Mhi solus tome_. We are one together.”

“We are one together,” Han repeats, wide-eyed, forgoing the Mando’a, which— honestly, Din is okay with.

“ _Mhi solus dar'tome_. We are one when parted.”

“We are one when parted.” 

“ _Mhi me'dinui an_. We share all.”

“We share all.”

“ _Mhi ba'juri verde_. We will raise warriors.”

“We will raise warriors,” Han finishes, eyes shining up at Din.

“Um,” Din starts, suddenly not sure how to proceed. 

“Is that all?” Han asks. “I thought there’d be fireworks or something,” he said, quip undermined by the sniffling. 

“You’re so annoying,” Din says, thankful for the familiar banter. 

Han must be really moved because he doesn’t even say his line, just moves his hands to Din’s shoulders. “Does that mean you can take that off now?” 

“Yes,” Din says, hands covering Han’s. “If you want.”

“I do want,” Han breathes. “If you want.” 

Din just pulls Han’s hands up to either side of his mask, giving him permission, then the helmet is coming off, and he’s vulnerable to Han’s teary gaze. 

The sudden exposure makes him self-conscious, so he says, “I’m sorry,” without thinking, “I tried to trim my hair this morning, but I—”

Han, apparently unable to hold back, just puts his hands in Din’s hair and brings him down for a kiss, chaste and sweet, mouths moving together, faces a little sticky from crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re so hot,” Han complains once they pull apart, foreheads touching, fingers sweeping over Din’s face: cheeks, lips, chin. 

“I’m really _not_ ,” Din says, “and besides, you said—”

“I know what I _said—_ of course I knew you’re hot, but…” he runs the back of his fingers down Din’s cheek to cup his jaw. “That’s a face I would’ve fallen in love with at first sight.”

“Yeah, well,” Din says, blush rising. “You fell in love with me anyway.”

“I know,” Han says, “that’s what’s so crazy!”

He is insufferable, and Din loves him so much, so he just leans forward to kiss him deeply, leaving them both breathless. Han pulls away slightly and kisses down his face until he reaches Din’s neck, kissing and biting gently. 

“I don’t know why you bothered putting clothes on,” Din says. 

“So you can take them off,” Han says against his jaw, moving his hands up and under Din’s shirt until his stomach is exposed. Han lightly runs his fingers across, fingertips leaving a lingering trail of goosebumps and ratcheting up Din’s arousal exponentially. 

“Is that so?” Din teases lightly. “You _scoundrel_.” He’s purposefully not touching Han anywhere but his shoulders, letting him take the time to explore Din’s body.

“I think you _like_ scoundrels,” Han says, pushing Din’s shirt up and over his head. 

“Maybe,” Din says, letting Han push him back on the bed, hands covering his sides, head moving down to kiss the gap between his ribcage, then down to his stomach, causing his muscles to jump with the attention, another shot of arousal running through him. “Maybe I like good boys,” he teases, hands moving to Han’s hair, carding through gently. 

Han rests his chin right above his belly button, looking up at him, sultry eyed. “You like good boys?” he asks, moving his fingers to tug on the elastic of his pants. 

“Yes,” Din says, breathless. 

“Good boys, huh?” Han asks, sitting up slightly to pull Din’s sweatpants off and onto the floor. 

Han kisses each side of his hips, and Din expects him to continue making his way down, wants him to, hips moving of their own accord, but Han just moves back up his body to kiss him, drawing his hands above his head, lacing their fingers together. 

“I don't know about that,” Han muses, moving back in to kiss him roughly, keeping his hands firmly on the pillow. He situates his body so his thigh is between Din’s legs, flush against the crotch of his underwear, and _presses,_ causing Din to gasp against his mouth and arch his back, tilting his hips towards the friction. Han lets go of his hands to move to his hips, but Din keeps them in place above his head all the same, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out under Han like this. 

They kiss like that, sloppy and fervent, for a while, Han picking up a steady pace, thrusting his leg against Din until he gets the perfect angle against Din’s cock, making him buck. The sweatpants Han is wearing are slightly too big for him, so they drag slightly, exposing the tip of his cock, skin rubbing against skin on Din’s hip. 

“Han,” Din says, moaning, and Han sits up, still moving his leg against him. He looks filthy, cocktip peeking out of his pants, shirt rucked up partway, lips flushed from kissing. 

“Yes?” he asks innocently. 

Din reaches out, grasping his hips, moving his fingers under the shirt Han had taken from Din’s dresser earlier. He sits up and wraps one arm around his waist, the other pulling the shirt off in one fluid motion. He holds Han like that, moving to kiss whatever skin he can reach, shoulders, chest, nipples (Han _is_ sensitive there, Din notices, filing it away for later), then he leans up to steal a searing kiss, still grinding against Han’s leg. 

Then, without warning, he uses his body weight and momentum to flip Han so their positions are reversed. Din kneels over Han, legs bracketing his hips, not touching. Han is gaping from below him, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“You forget,” Din tells him. “I’m a scoundrel too.”

“Well, I _like_ scoundrels,” Han tells him breathlessly. “They make me want to be good.” 

Din puts his hand in Han’s hair, grasping just enough to maneuver him and tips his head up. Deliberately, he shifts lower until their groins are touching, Din loving the feel of Han’s hard cock against his between the meager layers of clothing. He rubs firmly but slowly, the line of Han’s dick fitting in place against his vulva through his underwear, nudging his cock with each thrust. 

“Do you remember what I told you I wanted? The first time?”

“Vividly,” Han says, hands gripping his hips— not moving them, just holding. He’s _hard_ against Din’s cunt, precum leaking onto the front of Din’s underwear. Din knows they both could come like this, but it’s not what he wants so he stills his hips, keeping them pressed against each other. 

“Will you be good and let me fuck your face?” he asks sweetly, voice deceptively gentle, a juxtaposition against the firm hand in Han’s hair and the filth coming out of his mouth. His hand moves to caress the side of Han’s face, thumb touching his lips, pulling at the bottom one until Han leans forward to take it in his mouth, sucking gently. 

Din is so turned on at this point, soaking through his boxer briefs, and he can’t stop himself from moving again, just slightly on Han’s hard cock. This makes Han close his eyes briefly, bucking up, sucking harder on his thumb while Din moves the pad of his finger against his tongue.

Opening his eyes again to make eye contact, Han bites oh so gently down on his thumb and leans back, hands moving to Din’s hips. Din stays where he is, legs splayed out on either side of Han’s hips, his thumb fucking Han’s mouth, grinding onto his dick. He loses himself in pleasure for a moment, tilting his head upwards and letting the moans he’s been holding back come out of his mouth. 

It was Han’s turn to whine now, “Din,” coming out between sounds that are somehow both embarrassing and undeniably sexy. His hands are moving, now, pushing Din’s underwear down to grab his ass, making him gasp again and jerk at the sensation. 

Hey now,” Din says with a smirk, parroting the words Han said to him the other night. “You’re gonna have to ask for what you want.”

Han takes it in stride, hands firm on his ass, and looks into Din’s eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal. “I wanna suck your cock,” he says, “let me taste you, wanna make you _cum—_ ”

Din leans forward to kiss him, biting his lip as he pulls away, then lifts up to pull his underwear off. Din can’t help but touch himself, briefly, and Han’s hand meets his, middle finger pushing inside of him, moving in and out slightly. 

He kisses Han again, then moves forward to hover over his chest, knees nestled in Han’s armpits. Han’s hands grasp either side of his thighs, and he can feel his own juices on his finger.

“Ready?” he asks, combing his hands through Han’s hair. 

Han is looking up at him and he nods. “Please.”

Din pushes forward a bit, Han meeting him halfway, and then Han’s mouth is on him. They both groan as Han tastes him; Din is wet and leaking on his face, Han’s nose buried in his pubic hair, breathing him in. 

Han starts off slow and gentle, tongue moving around his dick, sucking on him occasionally, making Din gasp and grind into his mouth. After Din gets sufficiently worked up, Han brings his hand up to push two fingers inside of him, eliciting another gasp. Din’s hands grasp Han’s hair firmly, the other one cupping the side of his neck as Han keeps sucking on him and fucking him in time. Han pulls his fingers out, making Din clench around the sudden emptiness, only to wrap them around his ass and massaging his asshole, a question. 

“Yes,” Din exhales, fucking into Han’s mouth, and Han works one wet finger into his ass, tight and hot, and Din is suddenly coming all over his face, grinding into Han's mouth. Han laps his juices up and keeps sucking and licking his dick, finger gently massaging his passage, until Din pulls him back by the hair. 

Han looks fucking wrecked, and Din thinks he’s never seen a hotter sight in his _life_. Han’s face is slick from the tip of his nose down to his chin, tongue peeking out to taste his red, well-fucked lips. 

“Din,” Han says, pulling his finger out and holding onto his ass with both hands. “Holy shit.”

“No kidding,” Din says, coming down from the orgasm, but still fucking _horny_.

Han must be able to sense it because he brings the same hand he just used to finger him up to his cunt, Din stopping him before he can touch. 

Din chuckles a little bit. “No,” he says, not particularly interested in getting an infection. “Not unless you want to get up and wash your hands.” 

Han groans, almost a whine, and leans back onto the pillow with a soft thump. 

Din dismounts off of his torso then, laying down on his side next to Han, arm laying across his torso, touching the expanse of skin across his chest. He runs his fingers through Han’s chest hair until he reaches a nipple, pinching it slightly, then leans his head down to suck on the other one, getting a delicious, “ _Ah_ ,” from Han.

Han reaches down to palm himself through his sweatpants, dragging a thumb over the tip of his cock still peeking out of the waist. “You haven’t been much of a gentleman, you know,” he complains.

“I thought you liked scoundrels,” Din asks mildly, moving his hand lower, rubbing Han’s stomach, then his erection, pushing his sweatpants down past his buttox.

Han just whines at him and turns to face him, leaning over to suck a bruise into his neck, then he kicks his sweatpants off and they’re both finally, finally completely nude, skin touching nothing but skin. 

Din ducks his head to meet Han’s lips in a kiss, sweet and wet, tasting his own juices on his lips and tongue. He will never get tired of kissing Han like this, no barriers between them.

“You know,” Din says casually, still massaging Han’s cock. “I can’t get pregnant.”

Din can see Han’s brain break for a second, but he catches up soon enough. “That so?” he asks, hips twitching up into Din’s hand.

“Yes,” he says. “I also haven’t been with anyone else since my last eval.” 

“Funny,” Han says with a smile, understanding where this is going. “Neither have I.”

Din just hums, kissing Han, grasping his hips, and then he rolls them so Han is back on top once again. 

Han puts his hands in Din’s hair and kisses him within an inch of his life, leaving them panting when they come back up for air.

“Hang on,” Han says, pulling up. “I _do_ want to go wash my hands.” He presses a kiss to Din’s forehead, gets up quickly and dashes off to the fresher. The sound of water running, then Han is coming back to bed with him, all long legs and gorgeous skin. 

“You got me thinking about germs,” Han complains, covering him with his body once more.

“ _Good_ ,” Din says, laughing, arms wrapped around his shoulders, their bodies flush together.

Han drags his cock at the juncture between his hip and thigh, leaving line of sticky precum in its wake, then reaches down to massage Din’s dick, slipping two fingers inside of him to fuck in and out lazily. Din is still wet and sensitive from his orgasm and he feels his breath hitch, hips arching up off the bed slightly at the contact.

“You feel so good,” Han says against his lips. Din’s never been closer to another person in his life, and he can’t imagine how he got this far without this: bodies pressing together, loving each other.

“You too,” he says when Han bends down to kiss and suck at his neck. 

Han takes his fingers out to pull at his own dick, then rubs it against Din’s slick cunt, the teasing against his hole and friction on his cock so, so good, ratcheting up his desire.

“Han,” he says, hoping Han won’t make him ask this time.

He doesn’t, just presses his forehead against Din’s. “Yeah?” he says, asking for permission.

“Yeah,” Din breathes, and Han is pressing into him, hot and hard and _big_. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Han says, kissing him sloppily as he bottoms out. “I fucking love you,” he says.

“You’re so _deep_ ,” Din gasps, shifting his hips and clenching down. The only thoughts running through his head are _Han_ , and _deep_ , and _more_.

“Maybe I do like scoundrels,” Din confesses when Han starts fucking him, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip. 

Han props himself up with one arm next to Din’s head so they can look at each other while Han is moving in and out. 

Din pushes his forehead against Han’s, noses bumping, sweat mingling, and says, “ _More_.” 

“I can do that,” Han says, then shifts their position, hoisting one of Din’s legs over his shoulder, and pushing the other down until he’s spread out and open for Han. He kisses Din’s leg as he starts fucking into him again, and this new angle his hitting Din in all the right spots, making him arch off the bed and meet Han thrust for thrust. 

“Han,” he gasps, “that’s—” and Han is picking up speed, skin slapping against skin.

Han feels so good inside of him, but his dick is crying out for touch so he goes to reach down, only to be intercepted by Han, who starts to rub at him with his thumb, firm and at just the angle he’s learned Din likes. 

“Oh,” Din says, leaning back and just letting the sensations overwhelm him. “You’re a quick study, aren’t you.”

Han grins at him, sweaty, hair disheveled, and overwhelmingly handsome, hips keeping up the tempo. 

“You know it, hot shot,” he says, fucking him faster, increasing the speed on his dick in time. 

“You ever been fucked like this?” Han asks, sweat dripping onto Din’s stomach. 

“Never,” Din says, honestly, lost in it. “Not,” he’s cut off by a particularly well placed thrust and gasps. “Not like this. Not face to face,” he moans again, “not with someone I _love—_ ” 

Han leans forward, stretching Din’s leg back slightly, and it burns in the best way possible. Han reaches down to put his hand on the side of Din’s face, running through the sweaty curls there. 

Din leans up to kiss him, not much more than just pressing their mouths together, but between the angle Han is hitting inside of him, the pressure on his dick, and the all-encompassing feeling of Han, he’s finally coming again, leg slipping off Han’s shoulder to find purchase on the bed, hips moving with the clench and release of his orgasm, thigh shaking against his will. 

Han just fucks him through it, relentlessly, and the waves just keep coming, crashing over him until he’s boneless.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Din,” he says, slightly losing his rhythm as he gets closer to his own orgasm. “Too good for me.”

He leans forward, buries his head in the crook of Din’s neck, fucking him hard and fast, and all Din can do is hold on, grasping his shoulders. “You’re good too, Han,” he says, and then suddenly Han is crying out, biting down on his shoulder, coming inside of him with jerky thrusts.

They stay like that for a few minutes in the afterglow before Han pulls out of him and rolls off, the two of them absolutely disgusting, laying side by side.

“Holy shit,” Din says, looking over at Han. His own thighs are sticky and he can feel himself leaking, a combination of his fluids mixed with Han’s semen.

“No kidding,” Han says, hooking their ankles together. 

Din looks over at Han, a crooked smile on his face. “Guess we’re both good boys, huh?”

“The best scoundrels in the parsec,” Han says with a smile, leaning over to kiss him.

“Mmm,” Din says into the kiss before pulling back. “I love you, but I have to pee.” Before Han can object, he’s getting out of bed to take a piss and wipe himself down. He wets a cloth with warm water for Han and stops at the storage chest to dig for the cam Luke had mentioned on the way back.

Han was still awake, but only just, clearly about to doze off. “Wha’s that,” he asks, words slurring together.

Din doesn’t say anything, just wipes him down gently, throwing the soiled cloth into the clothes basket. 

“Is that a cam?” Han asks, slightly more conscious. “Should’a brought that out earlier,” he says with a grin.

Din laughs at that. “Maybe next time,” he says, then lays back down next to Han so their heads are side by side, raising the cam to get a snapshot. 

“Gimme,” Han says, taking the cam out of his hands. He quickly leans over to give Din a loud, wet smooch against his cheek. 

“Han!” Din says, laughing despite himself, as Han raises the cam and takes another snapshot. Din turns his head to kiss him on the lips, Han taking a third picture.

“Let’s see,” Han says, hitting a button to pull up the holos. The first one to pull up is the holo of Han sleeping on the bed with Grogu, toys scattered around them.

“Oh my god,” Han says, groaning.

“Luke took that one,” Din says. “It was _very_ cute, in his defense.”

“I will have my revenge for this,” Han mutters, flicking to the next photo. 

  
Din’s and Han’s faces pop up then, looking tired and fucked out, hair a disaster, but… happy, almost glowing. Din hasn’t seen his own smile in years, never had a reason to smile at himself in the mirror. Han looks happy too, smiling wide, eyes wrinkling in the way that Din loves.

The next picture, slightly blurry, Han’s face smushed into Din’s cheek, hair in his eyes. Din is mid-word but still smiling, almost embarrassingly happy, eyes closed in surprise.

Han hits the button again and the final holo glows in front of them, the two of them kissing, so, so gently, Din’s hand on Han’s face, the two of them wrapped up in each other. 

“Those are good,” Din says in an understatement, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“They are,” Han agrees, putting the cam on the bedside table then reaching around Din, burying his face in Din’s chest, slotted under his chin. 

“I love you,” Han says, muffled.

Din wraps his arms around Han, holding him in place. “I love you too,” he says, and they fall asleep like that.

* * *

Din wakes the next morning with Han still snoring beside him, curled up against his shoulder, arm a comfort across his stomach. Carefully, he extracts himself so as to not wake Han up so he can check on Grogu and use the facilities. After taking a piss, he puts on sweatpants and moves into the living room where Grogu is awake in his crib waiting for him. 

“Hey kiddo,” Din says, picking him up. 

“Dada, dada!” the kid says, clearly excited to see Din’s face. 

“Guess what,” Din says, picking up Grogu, letting him pat at his face. “Han’s part of our family now,” he says, letting himself smile at his kid. “He’s your _buir_ now, too, how about that? Grogu?”

“Dada!” Grogu babbles. 

“Two _buire_ down, one to go,” Din tells him, half joking. 

“What’s _buire_?” he hears, and Din jumps slightly, looking around to see Han leaning in the doorway, sweatpants low on his hips. 

A blush creeps up Din’s neck at being caught, but he answers Han anyway. “It’s, ah, it’s Mando’a. _Buir_ is parent, or... father, in this case. _Burie_ is plural. Fathers.”

“I like it,” Han says. “I’ll have to learn some Mando’a.” He pushes himself up and walks towards them, leaning up to kiss Din’s cheek, lips brushing against the stubble there, then down to kiss Grogu’s head.

“Good morning, Din Solo,” he says, standing behind him to wrap his arms around him, chin resting on his shoulder, faces pressed together.

“Good morning to you, Han Djarin,” he says, mocking, the hand not holding Grogu moving up to hold on to Han’s arm. 

“Dada!” Grogu adds in, very helpfully.

“That’s right, Mr. Grogu Djarin-Solo,” Han says, and Din’s heart flies up into his throat. 

_Grogu Djarin-Skywalker-Solo_ his brain supplies unhelpfully, a thought he doesn’t dare voice considering he and Luke decided just yesterday to take it slow. Still… it has a nice ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promise I really intended this to be the final chapter but it was getting too long for me to post everything together. Now that Din and Han are an old married couple, they can focus on working on their relationships with Luke, and the relationship between the three of them. Plus, they have that whole "assassination attempt" thing to deal with. Next chapter, we'll see some more familiar faces :) 
> 
> I also want to share the playlists I have for these three. I've been listening to these non-stop while writing:
> 
> [Skymandolo - “i like you / and i loved him / we could all be the best kind of friends”](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04OJTBWKd89tfbr0aIdpKh?si=aExNB0CQRCa0HihijWV2_A)
> 
> [Handalorian - “you turn me on to the idea of growing old”](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2lMI3IFnZFTIGC34sr580T?si=wWkRLqCzR4WtCV0L-d_2rA)
> 
> [Dinluke - “if you need a little sunshine you can borrow some of mine”](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3QTefLRd9sy0hffc10NSra?si=fg1vJqmzTey83QMMMBnD9g)
> 
> [Skysolo - “with tears in my eyes i begged you to stay / you said ‘hey man, i love you, but no fucking way’”](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73ip6vB7r3qYTJh1QLkeaz?si=HJ4_Jf6mQp2lLzc6XtlqYQ)
> 
> As always, I love to talk about these three in any combination, so come chat with me [@capdjarin](http://capdjarin.tumblr.com) on tumblr! I also occasionally post chapter previews there. If you ever make any content for them (Handalorian or Skymandolo especially), I'll probably give you my firstborn or something.
> 
> I love to hear your thoughts! Your comments mean everything to me <3


	5. The Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio enjoys a day out with their son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got unwieldy once more so I'm extending the chapter count again. Sorry/not sorry!
> 
> Please check out the following artworks that have been made over the past couple of weeks, somewhat inspired by this fic, I am in LOVE: 
> 
> [Han & Din by wizardstove](https://capdjarin.tumblr.com/post/641763331828580352/im-yellinnggg-thank-you-so-much-to-wizardstove#notes)
> 
> [Han & Din & Luke by coldishcasecreates](https://coldishcasecreates.tumblr.com/post/642412688281141248)

Luke finds them in the mess hall for breakfast that morning. Grogu is in his favorite high chair and Din, having already eaten at home, is watching him eat while Han wolfs down his own meal, blue pancakes and fresh fruit. It’s certainly a better meal than either of them had eaten over the past couple of months.

“What’cha got there?” Han asks around a mouthful of pancake, nodding at the stack of datapads Luke is carrying. 

Luke looks excited, eyes bright. “I did some research,” he says, giving Din and Han their own datapads and holding onto the last one. “Did you know there are books about this?” He gestures between the three of them. “ _Polyamory_ ,” he says, proud of his discovery.

Din breaks the word apart in his mind. Many love? _Oh_ , he thinks. That _is_ interesting. 

“I didn’t know there was a word for it in Basic,” Din says honestly, taking the datapad in his hand. “It was common for people to take multiple spouses in my covert. We called it _rov’riduur_.”

He looks over at Han, who is grinning. “Oh, you young padawans,” he says. “You have much to learn.”

“Obviously,” Luke huffs. “That’s why I did _research_.”

Din and Han flick on their datapads in tandem, scrolling through the works Luke collected. They start alternating reading titles out loud: 

“Polyamory: A Guide to Ethical Non-Monogamy,” Din starts. 

Then Han reads, “Eight Things I Wish I'd Known About Polyamory Before I Tried It and Kriffed It Up.”

“Open Thinking in a Closed Galaxy: Surviving and Thriving in Alternative Relationships.”

Han leans forward with a smirk before reading the next one. “Rebel Love Three Ways: How I Gave In And Got Karked—”

Luke cuts him off, blushing. “They’re not all winners. Point is, we need to understand what we’re getting into. We should choose one of these to read together and discuss. For the sake of,” he sits up, gesturing with his gloved hand, “ _communication_.”

“Communication,” Din muses. He’s not usually one for reading, generally preferring to train or work with his hands for recreation, but it is important that they’re on the same page. “Okay,” he says, “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Han says. “You pick one out, kid, since you’ve done the _research_.”

He grins and leans back in his chair, stretching his arm over Din’s shoulders. Din can’t help but lean slightly into the arms of Han **_—_** his _husband_ , a wild thought **_—_** enjoying the casual affection. 

“Wait,” Luke says, eyes darting between the two of them. “You two seem… happy today. Something’s changed,” he accuses, not unkindly, just calculating.

Din doesn’t respond, just flushes behind his helmet, and Han grins widely beside him.

“Oh my god,” Luke says, realizing. “Did you ask him already?” he asks. Din can only nod, a smiling creeping onto his face. “And he said _yes_?” Luke asks, wide-eyed but clearly happy for them.

“As if I could resist,” Han says, pressing a wet and loud kiss to the side of Din’s helmet. 

“This means I win, by the way,” Han tells Luke, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. “He’s _beautiful_.”

Din suddenly realizes that Han doesn’t know the full story of how he and Luke first met. Their eyes flick up to meet each other, and the sly smile on Luke’s face tells him that he had the same realization.

“It’s not a _race_ , Han,” Luke says. “Anyway,” he grins, “I saw his face the first time we met.”

Han sputters, clearly not expecting that. He turns sideways in his chair so he can look at Din. “But I thought…?!” he asks, seemingly unable to finish the question.

Din just shrugs. “I thought I was never going to see Grogu again. I wanted him to see my face.” Grogu looks up at the mention of his name. “Luke just… happened to be there.” Really, it was a much bigger deal than Din is letting on, but he’s not exactly interested in diving into his religious trauma over breakfast. 

“You’re right about one thing, Han,” Luke says, blue eyes shining, playful. “He _is_ beautiful. His eyes alone…” he trails off, looking at Din. 

Din must be bright red by now, once again thankful for the helmet. He wouldn’t be shocked if steam was rising from how hot his face was feeling. Din can’t seem to form words, either, can’t think of what to say so he just sits there while they talk about him.

“I _know_ ,” Han laments. Then, apparently not one to be one-upped, he adds on, “You may have seen those gorgeous brown eyes, but I _know_ you’ve never seen them while your mouth is on his ** _—_** ”

Din coughs, cutting him off, desperate to change the subject. “Do you need to call anybody? Let them know that you’re alive? _For now_ ,” he threatens.

Han laughs but takes the hint. “We called Leia and Chewie yesterday before you found us,” he says. “They, uh,” he says, suddenly seeming anxious. “They may be visiting us soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Din says, not sure if it’s the truth or not. 

“We’ll have to wait until they get here to go rescue the Falcon,” Luke tells them. “Leia said they should be here tomorrow so that gives us the day to relax. I have to train with the children for a bit, but after that... “ he blushes a little bit. “I was thinking I could show the two of you around the base. I’ve found some new spots since you’ve been here!” He looks excited at the prospect, and Din thinks a day of relaxing with Luke and Han does sound very nice.

“Can’t wait, kid,” Han says, tossing a berry at the blonde man across the table. The berry stops in mid air and flies back to hit Han square in the forehead.

“You probably should have seen that coming,” Din tells him as Han frowns and licks a thumb to wipe at the purple stain. 

Luke grins smugly and reaches to grab a berry off of Han’s plate, leaning back in his seat as he pops it in his mouth, eyes shining mischievously. 

* * *

Din and Han end up watching the training session, sitting on a grassy hill overseeing the ruins Luke uses as training grounds. All of the children are wearing Jedi robes, white, grey, and beige, including Grogu who is donned in a white robe with a black mudhorn stitched onto the sleeve. 

Din had grabbed the cam from their room this morning on a whim and finds himself taking pictures more often than he expects. Luke and the kids meditating, Grogu lifting a rock twice his size, Din and Han’s fingers tangled together in the soft green grass. 

He had never even thought about or understood the intrigue people had in cams before, but lately he’s been realizing just how quickly things can be taken from him. Din thinks back to the weeks after Grogu left with Luke, shipless, kidless, faithless, and he wonders if it would have been easier if he had something to remember him by aside from his favorite toy. 

“The kid’s good,” Han says, nudging Din’s shoulder. Din leans against the weight.

“He’s very special,” he agrees. “It makes me worried for him,” Din confesses. 

“He’ll be alright,” Han says. “He’s got the three most badass dads in the galaxy to watch over him,” he says with a smile.

“Luke’s not…” Din starts.

Han just shakes his head. “You two may be taking it slow **_—_** and don’t forget I know your definition of _slow_ , by the way **_—_** but he’s still Grogu’s dad. His _bueer_?” Han asks, only slightly mispronouncing the word.

A smile plays on Din’s face. He supposes that’s true. “ _Buir_ ,” he corrects.

Han frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s what I said.”

A pure laugh bubbles up in Din’s chest, then he impulsively lifts his helmet to his nose to catch Han in a kiss. 

Han gasps into his mouth, getting with the picture pretty quickly, and brings his hand up to cup Din’s jaw. One of his fingers presses slightly into a bruise on his throat that had bloomed overnight from Han’s mouth. “You’ve got something there,” Han says against his mouth.

“Scoundrel,” Din accuses, kissing him again, their noses bumping slightly, then lowers the helmet after they pull apart.

“Takes one to know one,” Han says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they go back to watching the training session. 

Din notices Luke losing focus quickly, looking up at the two of them on the hill a few times before pulling himself together. He wonders just how much the Jedi saw, and what he thought.

* * *

True to his word, Luke shows them the sights after lunch and taking the chance to get changed. Luke has apparently decided to forgo the Jedi robes for their adventure, opting instead for a tight, light-green sleeveless shirt and black pants tucked into his boots. Grogu is strapped to his chest facing forward with some contraption Din has never seen before, but he thinks he clearly needs to get one. The look _really_ works for him, showing off the muscles in his arms and back that the robes usually keep hidden away.

Luke is excited, talking fast and gesturing with his hands as he leads Din and Han down a trail through the trees, slightly overgrown but clearly a commonly used path. Yavin IV is gorgeous, lush and green, albeit humid. There are ruins scattered across the moon, history kept within the walls.

“Right here!” Luke says, looking at them over his shoulder, pushing through a curtain of ivy. Han follows after him, but Din checks to make sure it’s not poisonous first before trailing behind.

As he walks through, the dense foliage gives way to a clearing with a grassy area, clear river with running water, and various plants and flowers scattered across. 

“This is one of my favorite spots,” Luke tells them after unbuckling Grogu and letting him toddle off, probably to find some poor unsuspecting frogs. “It’s where I go if I can’t get off-planet and need some time away from the children.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, showing off his bicep. 

“Not a bad setup you got here, kid,” Han says, appraising the area, eyes trailing over the blanket laid out under a large tree.

Din can’t help but take out the cam he brought to take a few pictures as they chat: the blanket in the shade; the river lined with flowers; Luke and Han facing each other with Luke’s hand still on his neck, Han’s arms crossed, the two of them framed by green trees. 

“Documenting history?” Luke asks, smiling at him. The clearing is sunny and the light shines through his hair, highlighting the blonde. He looks _radiant_.

“I liked what you said yesterday,” Din tells him. “If I’ve learned one thing recently it’s that the things we love can be gone in an instant. Holos seem like they would be good. To help remember what you’ve lost.”

Both Han and Luke look at him like he said something so tragic and heartbreaking, which isn’t what he meant, not exactly. 

Neither of them speak for a minute until Luke breaks the silence. “You won’t lose us,” Luke tells him softly. “We’re safe here. Grogu’s safe here.”

“It’s not something we can _control_ ,” Din says. “Not when there is evil in the world like the Empire, like Gideon, and those who would murder families just the value of their armor. People have destroyed more for less.” 

“That is true,” Luke says, glancing sadly at Han, “but…”

Han moves over to Din, hand finding its way to the skin on the back of his neck. “We won’t let anything happen, hot shot. And if it does… well, none of us are exactly about to go down without a fight.”

“I know,” Din says, a little uncomfortable with the amount of attention on him. He just tightens his grip on the cam. “Still.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I _get_ it,” Han says, dropping his hand and changing the mood. “We’re the hottest trio on this side of the rim; this level of sexiness _has_ to be preserved.”

Luke rolls his eyes but he’s smiling now. “Han,” he chides. 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Han says, a crooked grin on his face. He walks backwards towards the river, unbuttoning his shirt. “Now, I don’t know about you mudscuffers, but I’m going to take a dip.” 

Han begins to strip down, a now-familiar sight, but not unwelcome. His shirt and vest come off first, then he toes off his boots and undresses completely down to his underwear. His body is tanned and toned, maybe a little too gaunt but shining in the sun after being stranded with Din on their island planet. Din has to avert his eyes, seeking out Grogu to keep his thoughts from drifting to the less-than-savory side.

He spots Grogu at the edge of the river, reaching down to either run his hand through water or grab a fish, he’s not sure. Tilting his head, he starts to wonder if he should teach the kid to swim or if he already knows how to swim? Then, movement out of the edge of his vision draws his eyes back to Han just in time to see him fall backwards into the river, water splashing around him.

Din crosses his arms and watches amused as Han flails to upright himself. “It’s cold!!” he says while Luke laughs into his hand. Grogu notices the commotion too, looking up from the water at Han splashing around. Then he raises a little clawed hand towards Han.

“Kid—” Din starts, but Luke cuts him off.

“Wait. Let him use the Force.” 

They watch as Han is lifted into the air, dripping water, then lowered back to dry land. Han is wide-eyed and breathing deep, staring at Grogu.

“Thanks, kid,” Han says as Grogu approaches him, patting his legs. “I totally had it though.”

“I’m surprised by how easily Grogu trusts after everything that happened to him,” Din says in awe.

“He trusts the people you trust, Din,” Luke tells him. Neither man can take their eyes off the scene in front of them.

“The people _we_ trust,” Din says, looking at Luke finally, brushing their fingers together. 

Luke looks up at him, smiling bright and genuine, and Din gets lost in his blue eyes, can’t help but reach up and touch the sandy blonde hair, sweeping it to the side to get a clear look. Luke blushes and his eyes widen a little bit, but he’s still _smiling_ and leaning into his hand _,_ so Din acts impulsive for the second time that day, tilting his helmet up and leaning down to kiss Luke Skywalker, like he’s wanted to since the very beginning. 

Luke kisses him back softly, hands finding purchase at Din’s sides. The kiss stays chaste, the two of them meeting mouths again and again until Luke pulls back, eyes closed, lips slightly open. 

“I wanted you to do that,” he says, “for a long time.” 

Din follows another impulse and leans forward to kiss Luke’s forehead before slipping his helmet back down. 

Luke opens his eyes and smiles up at Din, licking his lips as if to taste him; Din mirrors the movement in the privacy of his own helmet. 

“I’ve been wanting to _do_ that for a long time,” Din says, hand finding its way back to cup Luke’s jaw, running a gloved thumb over his lips. 

“Is Han staring?” Din asks, not wanting to turn his head away quite yet.

Luke’s eyes flick to the side. “Yep,” he says with a grin. “Grogu too.”

They break apart and turn in tandem to face Han and Grogu, both of whom are sitting in the grass cross legged gawking at them. 

“Really? You’re gonna do that for the first time while I’m _drowning_?” Han yells at them.

“Yes,” Din says.

Luke tangles their fingers together. “I thought you ‘totally had it though’?”

Han ignores him, just turns to look at Grogu who tilts his head up towards him. “Do you see what I have to put up with?” Han asks the child then hoists himself up and marches over to them with intent. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t’cha?” Han asks, standing over Luke and shaking his head deliberately to sprinkle him with water. 

Luke laughs, shrinking away slightly from the cold water. “A little bit,” he teases.

“A little bit. Do _you_ think he’s funny?” Han asks Din.

“A little bit,” Din says, smirking.

“ _A little bit,_ ” Han mutters. Without warning, he wraps an arm firmly around Luke’s waist and lifts him up so they’re pressed heart to heart, the water on Han’s body bleeding into Luke’s shirt. 

“Han!” he yells, laughing, breathless. 

“Way I see it, that’s three you owe me, flyboy,” Han says, carrying him towards the river. “You at least gotta swim with me.” 

Grogu looks at Din who shrugs, tilting his head in amusement. _Boys will be boys_?

Luke grins wickedly at Din from over Han’s shoulder, and Din remembers that Luke could easily get himself out of Han’s arms if he wanted to. The menace.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Luke gasps as they approach the river. “At least let me take my boots off!”

“Oh, of course,” Han announces dramatically. “Gotta save the boots!” 

He puts Luke down regardless, and Luke starts by grasping his top by the frayed edges and pulls it off his head, a tight black compression tank top below it, then he leans down to pull the boots off, holding onto Han’s bicep, and then finally removes his pants, revealing green boxers underneath.

And Din— well. Din is enjoying the show, if he’s being honest. He feels something touch him on the leg so he looks down and sees Grogu holding his arms up, asking to be held. 

“I told you this was going to be interesting,” Din tells Grogu, picking him up and holding him so he can watch. 

Divested of his clothing, sunshine skin a contrast to the dark, tight top, Luke walks up to Han, standing closer than would be expected, looking up at Han with big eyes. Din sees a glimpse of tongue as Luke wets his lips. _Scoundrels of a feather...._

Han, of course, falls for the obvious trap, his eyes tracking the motion, and lets his guard down for a split second. A split second is all Luke needs, though, stepping closer somehow, grabbing Han by the waist and pushing him back into the river. 

“You motherfu—” Han says as he crashes into the water, but not before he’s able to get a grasp on Luke, dragging him down with him. 

The two emerge, sputtering, and begin to play wrestle in the water, no more than waist deep. 

Grogu moves to lift his hand, but Din grabs it before he can cause any more mischief. “They’re just playing, buddy. You gotta learn to tell the difference.” 

Grogu holds onto his finger and coos, and Din sighs. “The water does seem nice,” Din tells him. 

It’s true, but he does have an ulterior motive of wanting to be closer to the two men as they laugh and play, enjoying each other. Hopefully the beskar will shield him from the worst of the splashing; it’s certainly seen worse in recent days. 

He moves forward, sitting near the edge of the river. Han and Luke are still distracted; Luke has found his way onto Han’s back, dunking him underwater, arms glistening. 

Din isn’t quite comfortable enough here to take off his armor yet, but he does slip off his shoes and gloves, and he rolls the legs of his pants up so he can dip his feet in the water.

He grabs the cam and takes a couple of pictures of Han and Luke, wet, pressed up together, laughing— they look _free_. It’s a joy he suddenly yearns for and he realizes that he _has_ yearned for it. He thinks back to his and Han’s island, watching Han swim and float and play nude and unashamed in the salty green waves. 

Din had wanted to join him there, in the water, wanted to open himself up to the sea and to _Han_. He doesn’t regret how their relationship unfolded, wouldn’t trade it for anything, but does find himself feeling like he’s missing out on life and camaraderie in a way he’s never let himself consider since taking the Creed _._ The feeling of isolation he felt last night flares, crackling its way up his spine. 

_It doesn’t have to be this way_ , a voice nags at the back of his head. He’s rebuilt a life for himself now, sees a future with Han, Grogu, and Luke. Doesn’t he get to choose how he lives it?

The men stop roughhousing in short order when they realize Din and Grogu are there, making their way to stand on either side of his legs, leaning against the river bank. 

“You gonna join us in here, pal?” Han asks, face red from the sun, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

“I don’t think so,” Din says.

“I was talking to Grogu,” Han says dryly. Grogu perks his head up at his name, looking at Han then up at Din.

“Dadas!” he says, bouncing with glee, clearly wanting to join them in the water. 

It gets easier every time Din decides to tilt his helmet up, this time to place a firm kiss on Grogu’s forehead. He feels tears spring to his eyes at the feelings overwhelming him. 

“Okay, buddy,” he says, voice thick. “Go play with your dadas.” He takes off the small robe the kid had been donning and sets sets it on the grass, thankful he’d brought a backup cloth diaper in his pack,

He hands the child off to Han who is getting a little better handling him but still clearly unpracticed. He’s not without enthusiasm, though, playing with Grogu in the water, letting him kick around and splash up at his face, the two of them laughing.

Luke hovers near Din for a minute, looking at him with bright, shining eyes, holding on gently to the bare skin of his ankle.

“Han made a good point earlier,” Din tells Luke. 

“Him?” Luke jokes.

“I’ve heard it’s been known to happen.” Din chuckles. “He said that no matter where we stand, you’re Grogu’s father. You’ve been caring for him and loving him for months now. It means everything to me. To _us._ ”

Luke grabs onto his hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss along his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, “I do think of him as my son. I loved getting to see him grow.” 

“I wish I could have been there,” Din tells him.

“You’re here now,” Luke says warmly. “And, I feel like we’re more in sync than ever, oddly enough.”

“Well,” Din jokes, “I know your first name now.”

Luke frowns at that, brow furrowing. “You really didn’t know my name before yesterday?” he asks.

“You never told me.”

“I _must_ have. That’s my line. ‘I”m Luke Skywalker, and I’m here to rescue you.’ Right?”

“You did not say that.” 

“I think I was distracted,” Luke laments, resting his forehead on Din’s knee. 

“The fact that Han and I were both pining after you without realizing it _is_ pretty funny,” Din says.

Luke looks up at Din through his eyelashes. “You were _pining_ after me?” he teases.

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

“I was pining after you too,” Luke says. “It’s my fault Grogu started saying ‘dada’ because I wouldn’t shut up about you.” 

“I’m glad,” Din says, playing with Luke’s hair, soft and thick. Luke leans into it. “It was the best welcome home present I could ask for.” 

Grogu eventually gets tired out when the sun is just starting to droop in the sky. Din takes him back home, tucking him in for a nap, then heads back.

Din moves into the clearing to find Han and Luke, apparently done swimming, laying together on the blanket kissing deeply, engrossed in each other. Din takes out the cam and gets a picture before they clock him.

Han notices Din’s approach first, opening his eyes and looking at him, eyes crinkling in a smile hidden by Luke’s lips. In a clear escalation, Han shifts so Luke is sprawled on top of him, their mouths still pressed together. 

“Han…” he hears Luke say breathlessly. “Din will be back soon.” That gets Din’s attention and he quirks an eyebrow, moving closer.

“Thought your Jedi powers would’ve shown you he’s already here,” Han teases. 

Luke’s head whips up to see Din and he blushes a very attractive shade of pink, arousal and embarrassment high on his cheeks. Din finds himself turned on as well, attraction burning as he watches them move together.

“I think he’s into it,” Han says, which is ridiculous because he’s still in full beskar and helmet, meaning Han should not be able to read him like that. It is true, though. “Can you tell?” 

Luke props himself up on one hand, arm flexing, and looks at Din. He concentrates for a second before a grin spreads over his red lips and he nods. “Yeah,” Luke says. “He’s into it.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Din says, settling himself down against a tree nearby to watch them. 

“You said you wanted to take it slow,” Luke gasps out while Han kisses a sensitive spot on his neck.

“I think Din has a different definition of slow from us common types, baby,” Han says, and the pet name is new. 

Din laughs low in his chest, getting comfortable, resting a hand on the beskar covering his thigh. “I don’t think either of you are ‘common types,’” he says. 

Din admits to himself that he’s feeling conflicted about “taking it slow” after the day they had, but, well. He’s not one to turn down a free show either way. 

“I just want to watch, anyway,” he tells them. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Han says, licking sweat off Luke’s jaw. “How about you, kid?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Luke says, leaning back down to kiss Han. 

They kiss like that, slowly but deeply, for a while. Luke’s hands are on Han’s shoulders, occasionally straying to his neck or the side of his face, and Han’s hands trace the skin on Luke’s back and ass, pushing his top up to expose his hips and stomach. They seem to know exactly where to touch and kiss to elicit the best sounds out of each other, little whines and gasps they can’t keep back. Eventually, Luke starts writhing a bit on top of Han in what could be an accidental tease, but Din can tell that it’s entirely intentional. 

Han starts kissing him harder, using his nails to scratch lightly down the patch of skin exposed at Luke’s back. He pushes his fingertips up under the edge of the shirt. 

“Do you want this off, kid?” Han asks when Luke starts peppering his neck with kisses.

“Yes,” Luke says, but then sits up a little bit, suddenly looking insecure, but still flushed, hair ruffled on his head. “But…” he looks at Din anxiously. Din frowns, not sure if he is worried about Din’s boundaries or his own. 

Han uses the hands on Luke’s hips to shift him a bit until he’s sitting upright, straddling Han’s stomach. “Something tells me he won’t mind, baby,” he says, sitting up slightly on one elbow. 

Din keeps looking at them, eyes tracking over the muscles in Luke’s arms, Han’s chest and stomach, then down to the place where their bodies are connected, a wet patch showing through Luke’s green boxers and he suddenly _realizes_. How stupid could he be?

“I’m trans too,” Din blurts out, hoping to the stars that he isn’t off base. He'd struggled for a second to remember the Basic term for it; the galaxy’s obsession with genitalia-based gender was one of the hardest adjustments he had to make after emerging from the covert. 

Luke looks at him, smiling brightly, a little surprised but mostly relieved. Din hopes he doesn’t feel pressured by his statement, he’s just happy to share their sameness in this particular trait. Han looks at him, smile warm on his face, thumb idly smoothing over the skin on Luke’s hips. 

“Yeah,” Luke says to Han, hands splayed on his chest. “Off.”

Han sits up to kiss him and Luke’s hands move to his shoulders. Han’s fingers push the binder up and over his head, revealing his muscled back, faded scars on his chest that branch like lightning going from his clavicle down to his belly, and small breasts protruding from his chest, nipples pink and taut.

Han kisses him again, one hand on Luke’s back, holding him upright, the other going to massage one of his breasts, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Luke whines, grinding himself back and forth on Han at the sensation. Han pulls away to move his mouth down to the same nipple, taking it into his mouth, making Luke moan and arch, his head thrown back, showing off the lines of his neck. Luke looks incredibly hot like this, chest and shoulders glowing in the early evening sun, light shining through his sandy hair. 

Din is hard in his trousers, warm and wet, dick beating along with his heart. Kriff, but they’re gorgeous together, and he loves watching them like this. His hand finds its way to the unprotected fabric on the inside of his thigh, thumb rubbing idly over the seam of his pants. Din shifts as the sensation warms him, goosebumps rising, and he lets his legs fall apart slightly.

“Think Din is enjoying the show,” Luke says, his eyes still closed, rubbing up on Han.

“Yeah?” Han says, breaking away with a kiss to Luke’s breast. Han looks at Din, and Din can see that he's flushed, eyes wide with arousal. “You showing off for him?” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Luke says, fingers threaded together at the back of Han’s head, thumbs brushing up behind his ears. “Wanna see how long it takes ‘til he touches himself,” he pants. 

Din chuckles to himself at that, shifting his hips again, the fabric of his underwear rubbing pleasantly against him.

“Don’t think it’ll take too much,” Han says, kissing up from Luke’s breast, his clavicle, then his neck. He holds onto Luke’s hips and thrusts up against him slightly. 

He’s right, damn him; Din finds his hand creeping to his crotch, fingers brushing against his cunt through the fabric. It feels good, warm even though the layers of fabric, and he breathes out slightly, pressing more firmly against the warmth. 

“Should we give him a _real_ show?” Han asks Luke, moving his hand to touch softly between his legs over his boxers, fingers glancing over the seam.

Luke leans Han’s head up, grasping at his hair, and meets his mouth for a kiss, wet and sloppy. They break apart, saliva running between their mouths, and Luke kisses across Han’s cheek, finally looking over at Din and smiles, almost a smirk, eyes tracking from his helmet down to the hand between his thighs. “Yeah,” he says, biting Han’s earlobe. 

“Fucking missed this,” Han says. He grasps Lukes hips, pushing him a little bit. “Turn around baby, let him see you.”

They shift and maneuver until Luke is seated in Han’s lap, facing Din. Han’s arms are wrapped around him, one hand massaging a breast, the other rubbing circles into his stomach. This new position lets Din see Luke more fully; his eyes trail from the way their legs slot together, the muscles in his calves and thighs, his pale stomach and belly button a contrast to the tan on his arms, breasts heaving slightly with heavy breathing, his head tilted, baring his neck, letting Han kiss and bite at a sensitive spot behind his ear. 

Din can’t tell for sure, but he imagines Han must be hard as a rock, erection pressing against Luke’s ass, hot and firm, rubbing against his underwear. How could he _not_ be hard, with his body pressed up to Luke like this, especially considering how hard Din is just from watching. 

The hand on Luke’s stomach moves lower, sliding under the waistband, not touching his clit, not yet, Han just running his fingers through Luke’s pubic hair, making him gasp at the sensation.  
  


Without thinking, Din takes off his gloves and unbuckles his belt so he can mirror the movement, running his fingers through his own curls, enjoying the warm skin to skin contact, the sensitive area tingling at the touch. He’s hard, knows he’s wet, can feel the warm musk and sweat on his fingers, but doesn’t want to touch until—

Han makes eye contact with Din over Luke’s shoulder and moves his hand down, all the way into Luke’s boxers now. Luke leans his head back onto Han’s shoulder, moaning slightly, canting his hips. 

Han groans too, biting at Luke’s shoulder. “That’s it, baby, gonna make you come just like this, let Din see how gorgeous you are.”

The two of them are wrapped in each other, Luke reaching back with one hand to card through Han’s hair as he kisses and bites Luke’s toned skin. 

Din finally lets his fingers touch his hard dick, familiar after weeks of masturbating alongside Han. He’s already embarrassingly worked up from rubbing himself through his pants, can feel the slick that’s made its way from his labia down to his thighs, sticky and warm. He closes his eyes briefly at the touch but doesn’t want to miss anything happening in front of him so he just breathes out and opens them again. 

Han and Luke are both staring at him when he opens his eyes, moving together, watching him watching _them_. Han is rubbing at Luke’s cunt under his boxers, and he’s thrusting up against Luke’s ass. Luke can’t seem to keep still either, hips canting, back arching with the movement of Han’s hands and hips. 

“You two,” Din croaks out, rubbing at his dick, friction so delicious. “You’re— kriff,” he cuts himself off.

“Feeling inspired, Din?” Han asks, grinning. “Wanna tell us what you’re thinking about? What you would do?” There is so much Din wants that he’s not even sure where to start. 

“Want to get my mouth on Luke,” Din starts, panting, fingers rubbing, close. “Fuck you with my tongue,” he says to Luke this time. “Do _anything_ to make you cum,” he gasps.

Luke groans. “Yes,” he says. “Please.”

It’s the _please_ that does it for Din, fingers slipping over his dick just right, tilting his hips, and he’s coming, his cunt clenching and releasing on nothing. All he can do is rub himself through it, sounds escaping his mouth of their own volition. 

“Fuck,” he hears Han say, opens his eyes to see him thrusting up on Luke more firmly, deliberately, fingers still rubbing on his cunt. “Din, you’re so _fucking_ hot.”

“Luke,” Din gets out. “What do you— what would you…?” he can’t finish the question, but Luke seems to understand.

“I just want you to kiss me again,” he almost whines. “Want you to touch me everywhere, my _tits_ ,” he says, keeping up the rhythm with his hips up into Han’s fingers. "I love your hands," Luke moans.

And _that_ , Din can do. “Keep your eyes closed,” he says, trusting Luke.

He makes his way over to the pair, his trousers undone, hanging open around his crotch, his fingers sticky from his orgasm. 

He kneels in front of the pair and tilts his helmet up in a familiar motion, exposing his nose and mouth to the open air, leaning forward to kiss Luke for the second time today. This time, they kiss deeply, tongues mingling, exploring each other, and he brings his free hand up to cup Luke’s breast, running his thumb over the nipple standing at attention. 

“Din,” Luke gasps against his mouth. 

“You getting close, baby?” Han asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Luke says, “ _faster_.”

Din lowers the helmet back into place and leans his forehead against Luke’s so he can use both of his hands to touch Luke everywhere, tracing fingers down the scars on his chest, occasionally straying back up to massage his tits. He brings the hand he was using to touch himself to Han’s mouth, slipping two fingers in. Han closes his eyes and moans around his fingers, tasting him, getting them slick with his spit. He retracts then uses those fingers to touch Luke’s nipple again, and the sensation seems to work in conjunction with Han’s fingers because he’s suddenly moaning and arching his back, grasping at Din’s shoulders as he orgasms, letting sounds escape his mouth that Din has never heard before. He lifts his helmet again, kissing him through it messily, and runs his free hand through his hair. 

Han must have been close too because he takes his hand off Luke’s cunt once he comes down, grasping his hip to hold him still and thrusts up against him once, twice, then he’s groaning into Luke’s hair and coming as well. 

Luke slumps back against Han’s chest, and Han wraps his arms around Luke’s stomach, holding him there, rubbing lightly. They’re all breathing deeply as Din keeps his helmet pressed against Luke’s forehead and brings his hands up, one on the side of Luke’s face, the other on Han’s face, both hands brushing through the sweaty hair at their temples. 

“ _Cyar'ikase_ ,” Din says, emotions swelling through him too big to name. “Thank you for letting me see you.”

Luke nods, eyes opening to peer into Din’s helmet, blue and striking. His hands move to the back of Din’s neck, pushing down his cowl to touch skin. “I hope you can return the favor one day,” he says.

“You have my word,” Din vows. Maybe sooner than either had anticipated.

* * *

“What time are Leia and Chewy getting here tomorrow?” Han asks over dinner, the same stew that Din had devoured the night before. He’ll take a couple of bowls home with him afterwards to eat in private, for now content to be with his favorite people while they eat. Grogu woke up hungry from his nap and is already nearly done with his own bowl, looking warm and happy. 

“Early,” Luke says. “They’ll be able to watch Grogu and the other kids so we can try to rescue the Falcon. We can just take that bounty hunter’s ship back to the beach.”

“Aw,” Han says, “No X-wing? I bet we could fit into that tight little _cock_ pit.” He throws an arm around Luke, clearly happy with himself. 

The image _is_ nice. Din sitting in the pilot seat, Han on his lap and Luke on his; Din reaching around to hug them both, then reaching down to touch— _nope_ , Din is not letting his thoughts stray that far over dinner.

Luke groans, burying his face in his hands. “I regret everything,” he says. 

“You love me,” Han boasts, kissing his temple. 

“Do we have the parts we need to repair it?” Din asks. Luke seems relieved by the subject change, blushing hotly. “Even if we can’t get it flying again, I’ll still need to go in to gather my supplies.”

“Your _supplies_?” Han asks, wagging his eyebrows.

“Don’t be disgusting,” Din huffs. “My _weapons_. The blaster’s good in a pinch but I need my rifle, and…” _the darksaber_ , he doesn’t dare say out loud, “my _other_ weapons.” 

Han nudges his foot against Din’s under the table. “I gave a list to Chewie, he should be bringing us everything we need tomorrow. We’ll get her flying again,” Han says. 

* * *

Luke walks them back to their home, but doesn’t come in. Din still needs to eat and they all need their rest ahead of tomorrow anyway. It breaks Din’s heart, not for the first time. 

“Today was fun, kid,” Han says, ruffling Luke’s hair. 

“It was,” Luke replies with a smile, not bothering to smooth his hair down. “I’m glad I got to share it with you,” he says to them both, and Din doesn’t miss the double meaning.

Luke leans up towards Han, kissing him sweetly, and they linger for a second, holding each other gently. Then he turns to Din, hugging him around the waist, head tucked against his chest piece. He tilts his head up, closing his eyes, and Din can’t help but oblige him, lifting his helmet once more to slot their lips together, tasting beef stew, Han, and Luke mingling together. 

“See you tomorrow,” Luke says, squeezing both of their hands and turns to walk home. Din wants him to stay more than anything, wants to draw him back and show himself fully. But he says nothing, just lets him walk into the distance.

* * *

After eating and setting Grogu down to play with a Jedi training toy Luke left for him, Din heads for a shower to wash the sweat and grime from the day away. Han joins a few minutes later, coming in behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist as the water washes over them, pressing kisses into his spine. 

They don’t talk, not while they’re embracing, not when Han turns him around and kneels as he goes down on Din, making him come with his tongue and two fingers as Din moans and shakes. Din realizes he’s crying as he orgasms when he tastes salt, the shower washing away most of the proof, once the emotions of the day and the past few months overwhelm him: love, regret, and yearning crashing into something indefinable and aching in his chest.

“Hey,” Han says when he comes up to eye level, holding him, touching his face, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones. 

“I’m okay,” Din says, almost a whisper, embracing him, their temples touching. 

They hold each other in silence, letting the water wash everything away.

* * *

After the shower, they emerge fresh faced and ready for bed. Din grabs Grogu and they collapse into bed together— which Din realizes is significantly bigger than it was when they left this morning.

“Oh my god,” Han says, into a pillow as he splays out across the bed next to Din. It almost feels like too much space, so he rolls over until he’s lying face down next to Han, an arm around his waist. He feels Grogu climb on his back and lays down on him, enjoying the close contact.

“What was it you said, earlier?” Han asks, turning his head to face Din. Din turns his head as well and realizes just how close they are, letting his eyes trace over the lines of his husband’s face. “Sharkese?” 

Din feels himself smiling at him. “ _Cyar'ikase_ ,” he corrects, then reaches up to brush a finger down the side of his face. “It means darlings. Singular is _cyar'ika.”_ He cups Han’s jaw. “Darling,” he says, looking into his hazel eyes.

“ _Cyar'ika_ ,” Han repeats, surprisingly not mispronouncing it. He mirrors Din and his thumb rubs at the stubble growing on his cheek. 

Din lets himself move forward slightly to bridge the gap between them, kissing him. Han’s lips are soft and warm from the shower, and he can still taste himself on his tongue. 

They fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, the kid sleeping on top of Din. The last thought he remembers before drifting away is that there is room here for one more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come say hi on tumblr!](http://capdjarin.tumblr.com)
> 
> I love to read your comments, they keep me going so please let me know what you think <3 
> 
> Rov'riduur is a word of my own making, it literally means many (birov) spouses (riduur).
> 
> All of the books in the first scene are based on real polyamory books! Well, with the exception of Rebel Love Three Ways. That just lives in my head, unfortunately.
> 
> Next chapter, the trio make their way back to the island to rescue the Millennium Falcon, and Din is forced to confront some things he's been trying to ignore.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sky's the Limit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614608) by [Gluten_Full](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gluten_Full/pseuds/Gluten_Full)




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